Summary: Instead of excitement and joy over Adam’s imminent return from school in Boston, unexpected emotions and personal fears leave the Cartwrights struggling in their welcome. This story is comprised of chapters told from a family member’s POV.
Rating: G
Words: 26442
The Homecoming
Raw Emotions (May, a few months before Adam is expected home from Boston) … (Hoss’ POV)
Pa’s been actin’ doggone strange all day. He started out so grouchy and short-tempered, I figgered it best to stay outside instead of taking them sideway looks he was giving me anytime I so much as breathed too loud.
I had to go back inside to grab a book showin’ how to tie some knots I was workin’ on, and I don’t think he even noticed me walk through, cuz he had that faraway look of something weighin’ so hard in mind and heart that his jaw was set near tight enough to crack some teeth.
That bothered me more’n his growlin’, so I worked on my knots at the table to keep an eye on him. After puttin’ his head in his hands for a bit, he looked up, and what passed over his face seemed sad more’n mad.
Pa shows he’s mad real easy, but he ain’t so good at puttin’ words to what gets him twisty inside.
It’s not the first time I’ve seen him like this in the last five-and-some-years. It was awful bad the first couple’a weeks after Adam left for school, but he broke out of it, saying it was time to return to what he called the “usual rhythm” of our family, even minus one.
He was good to his word, except when months passed without hearin’ anything from Adam or his grandaddy. Then Pa’d get itchy like he’s actin’ today, until a letter arrived. The difference is that whatever’s tormentin’ him today is deeper, near like he’s sick with it. Seems strange that he’d feel that way now that our countdown to Adam getting’ home has gone from over 1800 days to mark off on calendars, to only needing X’s on a couple’a more months.
One big thing happened while Adam’s been gone that helped when Pa didn’t hear from Boston, and it leaves me wonderin’ why he doesn’t use this today. A telegraph line made it to Eagle Station1 a couple years back. That’s just an hour’s ride southeast of the house.
Pa explained more’n once how the telegraph works, but it boggles my mind that a bunch of taps on a metal “key” in one place makes a language someone can understand miles down the line, and then they send it along to the next place where they do the same thing until it reaches the person it’s meant for. Sometimes them dots and dashes went clear through to Boston and back in a day, but most times, all them “junctions” meant things bogged down. Then it could take a few days or longer for things to work.
Sending a wire, especially one long enough to get all the information across, is expensive, but Pa used it a few times when that itch got so deep he couldn’t scratch it any other way. And one time when Little Joe went missing out in the canyons, Pa sent one to Adam, asking if he had any idea where Joe favored exploring in that area: somewhere he could have gotten in over his head. It was a near miracle how good it worked with things goin’ back and forth between here and Boston near perfect, and we found Joe exactly where Adam suggested.
Now that I think of it, Pa got one a them wires from Adam a few weeks back. It was good news, saying he had passed everything needed to graduate, and was looking for the fastest way home.
The “fastest way home” still means a long time. Pa and Adam say it took nearly a year to get here from Missouri. I’d forced my brain to do some arithmetic after learning how far a wagon train can travel in a day and the number of miles between here and the Mississippi, and told Pa I estimated Adam arrivin’ home by late October.
Pa was impressed, but said Adam would hire on with a supply caravan like the one he left with, and that would cut the trip in half. Those guys take the most direct routes rather than trying to find the most even ground like them settler caravans do. Supply crews don’t mind drivin’ through weather. They don’t stop to rest or take time for them things families need to do. And what Pa always talks about most that made travel harder on their trip out here, were those folks who piled every last thing they owned in the small wagons, making them break down from the heavy load on them skinny axles when greenhorn drivers managed to hit each rock and hole in their path.
Pa says the suppliers carry heavy loads too, but it’s packed evenly and the drivers know what they’re doing. The difference means it’ll take lots less than I was thinkin’ until Adam’s home again.
Saying home “again” sounds funny, but Adam started from Boston, so this’ll be the second time he shows up out here. It took 17 years to make the first circle; I hope it takes at least that long before he decides to do it again!
Getting to Boston was like goin’ home again too, since Adam was born there. Little Joe was born right here in the old house, but I don’t have a “certain birthplace.” Pa and Adam say I came along a few days before getting’ to Ash Hollow in the Nebraska territory where my mama died.
It leaves me kind’a envious of Adam and Joe to have a real place to call their first home. I have thought about one day goin’ back to where Mama and my uncle Gunnar lived when she met Pa, but he says, they were the only two Borgstroms left in the Sangamon River Valley town where they ran their family store. The town wasn’t doin’ well even back then, and with Uncle Gunner leaving too, probably no one remembers them anymore.
Pa isn’t sure where my uncle got off to, but maybe he’ll come ‘round one day to see us. I’d like to meet Uncle Gunner, since he’s the one who told Pa and Mama to name their first boy, Hoss, and I got him to thank … or punch in the nose … for needin’ to spell out my name every time people think it’s “Horse.”
That’s not today’s worry though. Pa started pushing to get the Ponderosa spit polished right after getting’ that telegram. Gotta say, watchin’ Adam’s reactions to all the changes Pa’s made should be interesting since he only remembers how things were when he left. That wire said he passed his tests at school, but the biggest test of all is comin’ when he gets home. If I see him struggling to find all Pa’s improvements, I might sneak him some answers. It won’t be cheatin’. Sometimes people need a little re-educating to pull up the answers they really know but might struggle to remember.
The biggest change is what he’ll see just lookin’ at us. Pa looks a little older, but the difference with him is that he’s gotten to be a real rancher and salesman, making the Ponderosa well known from here to the coast. But Joe and me … that’s gonna be crazy different. I was 12 when Adam left, the age Little Joe is now, but he was a itty bitty back then. We didn’t notice because it happened a little every day. Pants stopped reaching our ankles; boots got tight, and my shirts couldn’t button, reach my wrists, or stay tucked in my pants with some regularity. Pa grumbled about goin’ broke just keepin’ us—well me mostly—in clothes. Adam missed all that.
Things in town changed some too. Miss Jones was “hired” by the folks ‘round here to teach regular school instead’a doing it at the boarding house for a few pennies from the parents of her students. Each family puts in what they can with Pa tossin’ in a little more. Mr. Cass gave up one of his supply sheds for a schoolhouse, and others helped build desks and put in windows and a stove. One day, if the town keeps growin’, Pa says they’ll build a real school at the edge of town.
I stuck with Miss Jones until I was nearly 15, when I finished what she called secondary school. I liked it some, but itched to start ranching full time with Pa. He’s glad to have me on the crew, and says I’m learnin’ things real good.
Little Joe will surprise Adam most. Pa and me agree Joe’ll never get as tall as Pa or Adam, and being my size ain’t even possible since he’s built small and wiry. But Pa says folks won’t notice because he has a tall personality. If that means Joe’ll talk faster to get into and outa trouble, scheme better, and keep us all guessin’ as to what he’ll do next, then he’s already near to bein’ 10-feet tall.
All this thinking about Joe brings up something else that’s kind’a sittin’ uneasy in my gut. Adam leaving was hardest for Joe. The kid talked lots about him at first. With each year, he’s said less, until lately he don’t say nothing about him.
When Joe lost his mama, Pa struggled bad, leaving us with Adam when he needed to be alone, which was a lot. Joe turned to Adam like he’d always done with Pa, cuz he was still grievin’ too. Maybe when Adam had to leave for school, the kid was too young to understand that five years would seem like forever.
All I know , is that when we talk about Adam getting home, Joe either gets sassy or sullen, sayin’ he don’t know why we’re so excited about it. And then BAM! The other day, he hollered out that Adam can’t be coming home, cuz he’s really buried out at the lake next to his mama, and Pa didn’t have the guts to tell him the truth.
Pa didn’t say nothing, just took him by the hand to his room for a talk. Little Joe didn’t look convinced when he came outside later and wouldn’t tell me nothin’. He’s a smart kid and has always been that way. But he lost two people he thought the world of around the same time back then, and maybe it all got jumbled up in his head and heart and he put all his memories of Adam away somewhere deep where he can’t find them anymore … just to keep his heart from explodin’ from missin’ him so bad. What scares me some is that Adam really is coming home. Joe’s gonna face the truth that Adam was just away like we said, while his mama really is dead and won’t never be able to return. Will he be glad Adam’s back, or hate him for reasons he won’t even understand.
Adam’s always had a real soft spot fer Joe, just like all of us. He’ll figure it out and know what to say.
All this thinkin’ hasn’t gotten me any closer to understanding Pa’s mood. But there is somethin’ I wanna check. We mark off each day Adam’s been gone on a calendar to see them reaching the end of him bein’ away. Pa put notes inside the dates to remind him of things to write Adam about in his next letter. Maybe there’ll be some clue on today’s date.
***
Pa finally went outside to talk to Hugh. He don’t want us messin’ up his desk, but the calendars are in the bottom drawer and he doesn’t mind us lookin’ there.
The five calendars we’ve already finished marking are tied together, with one loose on top that we’re workin’ on. Slipping it onto the desk, I run my finger down to today’s square, and sure enough! Pa’s scratchy writing makes his odd mood clear as Lake Tahoe. Adam is graduating today. I knew it was comin’ up, but hadn’t paid attention to an exact date.
My heart pulls tight for both Pa and my brother. Adam has friends in Boston, and Grandpa Stoddard will be at the ceremony. His description of it sounded real fancy with lots of processions and speeches, but I’m thinkin’ the one person he wants there most, can’t be. And Pa … well he’s surely bustin’ his buttons with pride while doin’ it from so far away that it’s gotta leave a hole in his chest”.
It would have been “possible” for Pa to get there, except it was impossible. Travel’s still so slow, he would’a had to set out in February. Travelin’ in winter just doesn’t happen much. Most wagon travel stops, and a ship takes a long time too. Then double his time away from us and the ranch before he’d get home.
Pa made peace with this. That don’t mean his heart ain’t achin’ today.
There might be a way to help.
When I hear him talking to Hop Sing in the kitchen, I head there, offering, “I just marked off Adam’s calendar and saw he’s graduating today,” as I round the corner from the dining area. “How about we ask Hop Sing to make a special supper and we’ll celebrate here just like he is there. You can read us that letter where he told about them things he’ll be doing, like the parade through the streets and givin’ a speech in Latin. He even said what his robe will be like. Then we’ll cheer so loud; he’ll hear us all the way in Boston.”
He smiles for the first time today. “That is a good idea, Hoss.”
When Pa turns to check with Hop Sing, our cook’s head is shaking as he shows us the roast he’s getting ready, and then he points to the cake he already decorated with congratulations done in icing. Seems Hop Sing’s been payin’ attention to that calendar too. Our cook always knows what will make us feel better, and he figured we needed to celebrate, just like me.
All the food he’s gettin’ ready makes me wish someone graduated from college more often. With it bein’ a special occasion, I’m betting seconds on that cake are a sure thing.
Big Expectations/Bigger Worries (Ben)
A week later …
My son graduated from college last week. After being with him for nearly every milestone in his life, missing this tore at me. Thankfully, Hoss and Hop Sing knew what to do. And Adam achieving this “ending” to one part of his life means he’s returning home to a new “beginning.”
I have kept a journal since becoming an officer on Abel’s ship. It was necessary in my role, but it’s still an invaluable tool in helping to recall what happened each day. Just prior to his graduation, Adam sent a telegram confirming he’d leave for Missouri in two weeks to join a supply train heading this direction, prompting me to review my log entries from the past five years to make a list of the changes we’ve made to the ranch in his absence. It’s so long I’ll have to tamp down my desire to show him every last one the day he arrives. To keep it from seeming overwhelming, I’ve organized that list into manageable segments, beginning with the ones he’ll notice first.
Topping the list is the house. When I compare the pencil sketches Adam made shortly before he left, to the structure we built from the specifications done by an architect in San Francisco, I am re-amazed at how many of his ideas were spot on and worked perfectly.
My eldest always had a talent for seeing how need and construction could meld beautifully. What he didn’t have at the time he made his drawings, was the math to build it. Some things can be rigged together with minimal planning and simple measurements. But with his vision and another man’s calculations, this house took shape.
Adam’s destiny seemed clear when he got to Boston and tested well enough to be admitted to several colleges, and chose Harvard because it was initiating the first classes leading to a degree in engineering. He graduated at the top of that program. That credential alone made him eligible for any job he’d want anywhere. Yet he chose to return home. It makes me proud, yet I’m now wondering if his years of living in a city surrounded by exceptional beauty, history, and opportunity, may make the pastoral efforts we’ve accomplished here seem banal in comparison.
I don’t want to believe that, yet my heart often races in worry that Adam will come to equate coming “home” as a forced return to back-breaking labor and colorless routines because he feels obligated to offer service in-kind for his education. A house, even one built from his amazing innate aptitude in design, won’t tip the scales towards joy in being here if that’s the case.
Letters from Abel included stories of my son’s successes, but also of his continued homesickness and grief at being so far away from us. I am thankful for my father-in-law’s openness about this, since Adam’s letters would say only that he “missed” us. It is like my son to keep his emotional upheaval to himself so as not to not worry me. Like father, like son, since I never worried him by revealing the huge void existing here these years without him. The most telling thing I ever revealed was that we were marking off the days on the calendar until his return—leaving a visual reference to the length of his absence.
Thankfully, Abel also revealed Adam’s growing confidence, along with his assurances that even though my son was making new friends and enjoying life in the East, the boy was always giddy when our letters arrived. Even late in this stay, my father-in-law revealed that he still observed moments when Adam’s mind drifted home and he would need to be coaxed out of his melancholy.
Elizabeth’s father, when my captain, seemed formidably unapproachable with his crew. This stemmed from his position requiring control over all things on ship, including control of his emotions. After I married Elizabeth and I lived and worked with him, I saw how deep his emotions ran. He was a tender-hearted father, and suffered tremendous grief after being betrayed by his employer, causing him to make some horrible missteps around the time Adam was born. Ultimately, his fine character shown through his ordeal and he became an even better man for his mistakes. He sent us away with his encouragement and has continued to be this family’s biggest supporter. His affection for me has been shown in his care to tell me that Adam’s love and loyalty to his family will return home along with the rest of him.
Yet, I worry.
When I can put that aside, I look forward to showing him every nook and cranny of this house. The place is described as having magical properties by those who have been here. That comes from an exterior that belies all that hides within. My son kept the feel of our original cabin in creating one large room on the first floor, allowing room to dine, with a few different seating areas where we can be together or separate. The same space can be rearranged to host a good number of guests. And upstairs, our bedrooms are tucked into rooflines, with chimneys unseen from the front.
I made one change. Adam made a separate room off the dining area that includes an outside door, thinking it would be my office. After working amid my boys since starting out, I couldn’t imagine being separated from them. I’ve learned to concentrate even with conversations going on nearby, and loved being part of their lives even while working. So I commandeered the space to the right of the front door Adam had imagined as a library area with chairs and bookshelves. There’s enough room for my desk there, and I had the book shelves built, adding cabinets below to hold a safe and boxes. That other room is decked out as a guest room for those who can’t climb the steps to the spare upstairs.
The house has been up over a year, but I still stare each time I ride into the yard. The pine and hardwoods taken from our land, give it that cabin feel Adam intended, and it fits naturally into the setting. We don’t keep our house for company. It’s a working house that welcomes us no matter what state we’re in at the end of the day. This doesn’t mean we don’t keep it clean and orderly or come to the table in dirty attire. But we’re in and out all day, and would never disallow anyone the comfort of sitting down, even if they’re a little road worn. Thankfully Hop Sing’s oversees our efforts and helps return our home to an organized haven each day.
Just like the Cartwrights clean up nicely with a bath and little polishing, our house can go from everyday ordinary to party ready with minimal effort.
Even with my certainty that Adam will be satisfied and excited by the house, I find myself sighing constantly with concern over his impending return when I should be feeling excited.
The actual emotion causing the sighs … is dread.
Why would I feel that rather than joy?
Turning it in my head, I realize what plagues me is not how my son will feel about changes on the Ponderosa. The dread comes from fearing how he will feel about … me ….
For 17 years, what my son learned about love, discipline, joy, loyalty, hard lessons, and most everything else he didn’t read in a book, was filtered through me. I was the taproot from which our family grew and sprouted branches. It was my strength and authority that kept our family tree reaching upwards to form a canopy of protection and purpose.
My firstborn will have now experienced the mentoring of others, most of them smarter than I am, and heralded for their worldly fame and success. Will he want to graft his root back into our family tree, or will he find us … me … disappointing in comparison.
It’s not fair to level a charge of this judgment coming from Adam, yet the devil whispers, “Your son won’t need you anymore, and soon your other sons will feel the same way.” I am filled with “anticipatory grief.” I want all three sons to establish their own lives even if that means leaving home. But not yet. Not when I’ve been hoping for Adam to be at my side again. At least for a few more moments before he finds his own way.
In turn, I’ve become obsessed with providing the perfect homecoming, thinking Adam will accept nothing less. I know innately that total perfection is not accessible on earth. We may experience moments of ecstatic joy. I should view my first look at Adam when he comes home a perfect moment, but that moment will give way to a long period of adjustment. I’ve always known he won’t be the same as he was when he left. None of us will be, and I’m sure he knows that too. Yet I’ve allowed this need to infect my wellbeing to where I feel ill with it.
Adding to the anxiety, is the three to four months I thought I’d have to work this through, were just cut to three weeks after receiving a new telegram from Adam I’d assumed would say he’d made it to St. Louis, and when we might expect the supply train to drop him off.
It wasn’t!
Leave it to my boy to find a last-minute opportunity allowing him a faster trip, even if it is untried and possibly perilous. Butterfield Overland stage service has roughed out and supplied a direct westerly route, hoping to establish transportation and mail service using stage coaches between Kansas and San Francisco. Estimates are that it should take a mere two weeks once they get things worked out. What a godsend for those of us who’ve relied on supply caravans or ships to move letters and packages, taking months each way.
Adam’s message indicated he had responded to an earlier advertisement in a Boston paper soliciting candidates to ride along on the first test of the system. For their help in identifying issues needing to be addressed prior to Overland making a bid to the government for such a service, six passengers were promised a small stipend, meals, and a trip as short as three weeks to the West Coast, along with a warning the “short” journey could prove brutal. The stage will run 24 hours, unless weather or an overly dark night makes it too dangerous, and will stop only to change horses and allow passengers to eat and stretch.
I’d seen that article in a San Francisco newspaper Will Cass has delivered with his supplies from San Francisco. There are inherent dangers with it, yet no more so than any other covering the same ground. The article encouraged interested parties in the East who could get to St. Louis quickly when called, should visit a Western Union office and have them wire their qualifications directly to Butterfield’s main office.
Adam made an ideal candidate! He’s young, skilled with equipment and animals, has completed a similar trip twice, and needs a way home. Even better was that the route across the lower territories would veer north to cross the Sierras at the pass just south of Lake Tahoe. A rudimentary road from the Ponderosa already intersects with this route, making it a perfect solution.2
Having heard nothing, he’d assumed he hadn’t been chosen, but was notified of his selection the day after his graduation. The offer and acceptance were instantly completed, considering our times, and he leaves for home next Monday, promising to send wires when he can to keep us appraised of his expected arrival.
It takes us over a day to reach that intersection, so we’ll head over once we have a date and camp until he arrives.
My awe over this opportunity, was immediately followed by panic at the narrowed schedule for preparation. Yet everything is already in order, needing only upkeep.
So, why am I nervous?
The saddest possible outcome of this is that if I can’t stop my rushing thoughts, I will end up scrutinizing his every word and action, thus causing the outcome I predict!
I pray to shut these thoughts away, yet lack the submission in my will to do so.
Faulty Memories (Joe’s Confusion)
Listening to everyone talk about my brother coming home makes me breathe so fast I get dizzy! Nothing is done without considering how it’ll impress Adam.
Even in town, I’m told how excited I should be. Miss Jones tells me each day how wonderful it will be to see him and hear about his adventures in Boston. Her eyes flutter like she’s got something stuck in one when she says I’m so lucky to have a brother so “well-traveled.” It’s like I don’t matter except for being the younger brother of the “smartest person she has ever known.”
My heavy sighing about this doesn’t come from not wanting him home, it’s that I don’t remember Adam anymore. How can I tell that to anyone? I close my eyes, trying to remember what he looks like, but nothing comes. When Adam left, he said he’d be gone a long time. What he should have said was he’d be gone forever, just like Mama. I actually told this to Pa a few weeks ago and he said it wasn’t true. Pa doesn’t lie, but there’s something about this that smells fishy? When I can’t picture him, I’m afraid it’s because he doesn’t exist anymore. Pa takes us to pay respect each year on Mama’s birthday, but I’m terrified that this year, I’ll find another grave, or at least Adam’s marker.
Pa might not lie, but he might be stuck not knowing how to tell me the truth. He was so sad after Mama died, if something has happened to Adam, he probably just couldn’t say it out loud: at least to me, knowing it would hit me hardest. I’m afraid that about the time Adam’s supposed to get “home,” Pa will finally tell everyone that something happened to him and he ain’t coming back except in our memories.
I know that’s stupid! But sometimes, when I want to think of my brother, and I can’t, I get terrified of what he’ll think of me when he does get home. There is one thing that’s good. I can recall Adam’s voice. I’ve dreamed about him lots, and even more lately. The problem is he’s a voice without a face.
I’ve hung my hope on a Bible story Pa often recalls when he does our Sunday talks. There’s no preacher living here, just one who comes through every few months to hold service at the school in Cass’ storehouse. He makes every story end with how we must repent or go to hell. If I only heard his talks, I’d be sure I could never be good enough for heaven. But Pa’s says I gotta think of God as my father, and heaven as a home I’ll go to one day, not because I’m perfect, but because this Father loves me, is. My own Pa ain’t perfect, but if God’s like him, I’ll be happy.
The story Pa likes so much is the Good Shepherd. It’s didn’t make sense to me at first because in these parts, sheep ain’t thought of highly. When I asked Pa why, he said sheep ain’t the problem: it’s bad shepherds. Cattle ranchers and farmer rely on grass to feed their animals, and most of those critters eat only so far down, letting it grow back quick. But if big flocks of sheep come in, they gnaw it so short, it can’t grow back.
Shepherds in the old times had small flocks they could keep moving so that didn’t happen. The best part was the good shepherds named each of their sheep and called them by that. They protected their flocks and when the shepherd called them, they knew his voice and came running. The sheep knew this one guy’s voice so well, they didn’t respond to anyone else.
I know Adam’s voice right off when he talks in my dreams. And even though I don’t recall his face or much of what we did together, his voice makes me feel safe. It settles me if I’m having a bad dream. That seems familiar, but I don’t know why. Sometimes I hear his voice singing to me. He must have done that at one time too.
After Mama died, Pa disappeared for some time when he got too sad to stay put. Hoss has told me how Adam was the one who took care of us during those times. That sounds familiar, but not enough to remember it clear. And then, Adam went away … just like Mama had.
Hoss and Pa explained why he was gone, but none of it made sense because I didn’t want him gone. It got easier to not think about him. And now … he’s lost in my brain.
When people ask if I’m excited about him getting here, I just nod. I’m not excited. I know he’ll hate me for forgetting him. It’s even worse because I chose that way to remember him … I mean chose to not remember him … which means it’s my fault that I don’t.
I need to hear his voice before seeing him, and find out if I’m like a sheep. If I am, then I should remember everything.
Anyway … Pa wants to meet Adam where he gets dropped off. Having to face him out there makes me want to throw up, so I’m gonna say I’m sick when the time comes. My stomach is tied up bad, so it’s not a lie.
Hmmm. All my thinking has me wondering something else. Lately I wonder if Adam coming home is bothering Pa more than making him happy. Sometimes when he mentions it, he looks more like he’s got a sour stomach and needs a bicarbonate. What he “says” sounds right, but he acts like he does when he’s bad worried.
He was like that a couple months back when Hoss was late getting back after riding out alone to look for a calf the men said was missing from his mama in the near pasture. It was way past suppertime and getting dark when Pa sent a couple men out to look for him. He tried to pretend he wasn’t worried, even saying it was better to send several men than trying to find Hoss alone, and repeating that Hoss had gotten interested in something along the way, and would be along shortly. But his words came while pacing the floor, and looking at the clock and out the door every few minutes. He was a different man once he finally heard horses, and saw Hoss with the men riding into the yard.
Pa’s nice to our ranch hands, even though he hollers if they do something that could hurt another hand or the steers. But the last few days Pa’s been shouting so rapid-fire at everyone about getting something done for Adam’s homecoming, it sounds like he’s shooting at bottles on the corral fence. I can’t figure whether he’s worried about Adam not getting home, or if that he will, and be mad if things aren’t perfect.
Hoss is the only one who’s happy. I’m jealous! It’s not fun having a stomach so wiggly, I could use bicarbonate too.
Shaken, Not Stirred (Adam on the road)
It will take a week on solid ground before I stop feeling like I’m swaying. I don’t know the explanation for the phenomenon, but some motion leaves such a strong imprint in your brain, it takes time for the feeling to subside even after the stimulus ends.
When this stage stops long enough to get out, I weave side-to-side like a drunken sailor on deck in a hurricane. As the trip has gone on, this sensation lingers longer and will return even after adjusting to solid ground. Grandfather explained this as being the reason so many sailors walk wide-legged and unsteadily on land after a voyage. I’ve experienced this to a lesser degree after a day on a horse.
Our brain must adjust our balance when the motion we’re experiencing doesn’t correspond to what we see: like when you see a stable horizon, but your body is moving in direct contrast to that. This adaptation allows people to remain upright on the deck of a ship buffeted by the sea’s waves and swells, or in my case, getting used to the ship-like glide of this coach or the bounce of a horse. On this trip I have become aware that if a person’s brain can’t make this transition, they remain constantly nauseated. The condition known as seasickness can happen anywhere the eye and mind don’t work together.
I’m not complaining. I’d put up with most anything to be home in weeks rather than months. Still, I am thankful to be nearing the end of the odyssey. The coach is not only cramped with six men, it has become almost intolerable due to the odors trapped inside. With no time allotted for bathing at our stops, the underlying conditions couldn’t improve. We’d decided that changing our clothing was meaningless and we should keep the clean things for the end when a bath will fix things. Adding to our body odor, is the noxious gas created in our guts from consuming way station fare where meat dishes are stretched with cabbage, turnips, and onions: filling and tasty to consume, while producing horrific after effects.
But worst at this time, is the lingering odor of one man’s stomach contents being expelled regularly because he has failed to develop that important positional equilibrium. The body of the coach rests on straps or slings that are bolted to the frame. This design was used hoping to produce a “smoother” ride, akin to a boat floating on smooth water. However, no conditions we’ve encountered have been anywhere near smooth, meaning these slings leave us jolting around like we’re in a continuous storm.
Even so, five of us adapted, while one man has remained in a constant state of upheaval. This poor soul is not only sick, he’s starving because the food consumed on solid ground, won’t stay down long enough to digest once back in the maelstrom in the coach. He’s a decent guy with a weak stomach, who feels badly about his condition. Our only option is to deal with it as kindly as we can.
The drivers, realizing his dilemma and our discomfort, provided him with a covered bucket so he’d stop vomiting on our feet. A good plan in theory, but less than effective since the coach jolting on the bad roads made him miss the receptacle as often as hit it. We’ve tried helping, but that has raised the deposited slurry from our feet to our shirt cuffs and coat sleeves as we hold the bucket or direct his head. The coach is fermenting now that we’ve reached warmer weather.
This is one of those problems Overland will need to address for future trips with paying customers. I wonder if they could carry bicarbonate or a tonic to settle stomachs. The only thing they offered us, was a second bucket with wet rags to help clean up. The situation is beyond redemption at this point, with deposits embedded in places no wet rag can reach.
One grace that has kept me from giving up and walking home, is that the drivers allow me to ride up in the luggage rack if the weather is good and the road isn’t so bad that I’d fly off. None of the others have the agility or fearlessness to climb and hold on up there. I’d have let them tie me to the roof rails to get fresh air for a few miles.
Something I’d worried about prior to the trip was the effects of sitting for so much of the time. I grew a couple inches at school, and stayed physically strong by walking and running on campus, and then helping Grandfather and working at a livery and the chandlery over the summers. I needn’t have worried. The conditions inside the coach curtailed my appetite, and the ride itself proved a constant physical workout. The outcome is that I lost weight … fast.
Grandfather’s housekeeper graciously modified my two sets of pants and coats just before I left to make them fit better. Even with the alterations, I had to start grabbing my pants a week into the trip, so they didn’t slip down when jumping from the stage. Luckily, a station man in Colorado saw me holding my pants up and punched extra holes in my belt.
The good news, is the odors, sleepless miles, bad food, and assisting the coach up slippery hills and out of mudholes, will soon be a memory. The driver confirmed that I can start counting hours instead of days to my destination. I sent a wire home last week with a probable arrival date, but with no time to await a reply, I’m not sure what to expect when we get to the crossroad.
Pa might be there, but with a nebulous arrival, I might find a horse and supplies at the intersection to get home on my own.
I heave a silent sigh considering that I’ve dreamed of coming home since the day I left with Professor Metz. Yet now I’m experiencing similar feelings to those I had when I went away. This time in reverse.
Boston became my home too. I never lost sight of where I needed to be once I graduated, but a couple weeks ago, I said goodbye to the family I was blessed to have in absentia from Pa and my brothers. I especially miss Grandfather. We became close. I got to know my mother in his house. She lived in his stories! I visited her grave, and met women who’d been her friends. I felt Pa’s presence in Boston too, since there are still sailors around who had served on The Wanderer with a young Ben Cartwright.
I also left behind a lovely woman I hope to marry one day. I even proposed. Not because I envisioned returning home with a bride, but so we’d be promised while each taking care of unfinished business. Hers was attending college to become an educator. For me … I needed to get back to the three people who have never left my heart.
She refused, reasoning that I was feeling the pressure of our separation and trying to tie up loose ends that were so far in the future that they simply couldn’t be laced together yet. She explained, “Marriage shouldn’t be seen as a future ‘obligation.’ It needs to freely entered after we complete our plans.” She felt things could change so rapidly while apart, she didn’t want either of us kept from experiencing it all, which might be possible if we were promised to a set future. It makes sense now, but hurt badly at the time. We parted believing that if we are destined to marry each other, we will be brought together at the right time and place. Maybe it’s not the stuff of a great love story, but then again, maybe it will be.
My excitement to get home grows with each mile subtracted from the total trip. Yet intermingled with the excitement, is another reversal of my trip away. When leaving home, I worried I wouldn’t fit in out east. Now I worry whether I’ll fit in here, since my family got used to life without me.
Five—closer to six—years is a long time. I’ve grown up … changing physically while also becoming my own decision maker. Pa may expect things will be as before. If I don’t look and act as I did, will there be problems with us getting along? Sometimes I see my reflection, surprised by the person looking back. It makes me wonder whether my family will recognize the person looking back.
There’s further worry of a different kind. Every letter from Pa referenced changes he’s made at home. I fear disappointing him if I’m not able to spot them, or even worse, not react in the way he expects. It’s not that I didn’t want to keep all this information at the ready. But school required so much concentration and memorization, I put things aside that weren’t absolutely necessary to remember at the time. What if I’ve lost those memories instead of storing them?
And finally, taking all these things together, I fear and grieve that my relationship with my father may never be as strong as it was. Pa and I did everything together for 17 years. Will we find a way to breach the changes and work as a team again? Will he want or respect my ideas, or worse, might he resent them? In turn, will I resent not having a greater say now that I’ve learned so much about so many things.
I expect the first few days will be spent circling each other, gaging the changes and determining if we can get past them. He’ll watch my reactions to the changes I see, and I’ll observe his response to my thoughts on things. I also expect it will start as soon as I step off the stage, so it will be complicated by my exhaustion from this trip. Whether I find a horse waiting or Pa and my brothers there to welcome me, I will advocate for one night camping under the stars on the way home to restore my mind and soul to the land while my brain stops telling me the ground is swaying under my feet.
What I pray for is that Pa will be happy with me, and will value the differences compared to the boy he sent to school.
Will he?
A Lie Based on Truth (Little Joe)
Pa and Hoss just left to meet Adam. They took a wagon cuz they aren’t sure when the stage will arrive, and they’ll need gear and supplies to camp until it does. I thought sure Pa would be happy now that everything is ready. But he still looks mad and sort’a scared.
With me feeling sick and Pa acting like he’s dreading this as much as wanting it, Hoss is still the only one acting like he always does. He talked about how good it’ll be to see Adam, and how he “don’t care if he’s changed some or looks different.” My middle brother says he’d be more surprised if our older brother hasn’t changed, than that he has. “Wouldn’t be natural to go through all he has and not be different for it,” is how he put it. He made me laugh when explained that if Adam’s “different” shows up “as him being intolerable,” then he’ll take our brother down a peg or two, reminding him a little more about who he was before he got all this new stuff added to his brain.
He’ll do it too! Hoss speaks truth better than anyone. It’s not the angry kind of truth that cuts deep without needing to be so harsh. If Hoss tells someone a truth that hurts, it’s because he’s caught them being thoughtless.
Pa made me dizzy running back and forth like he was sure he was forgetting something important. It’s like he’s expecting the King of Boston to get off that stage. I guess Adam graduated with lots of awards and stuff, but none of them were a crown. Still … if there is a king on that stage … Pa will be ready for him!
Meanwhile, Hoss’ only concern was whether Hop Sing was sending enough food. How can he be so calm and happy.
In the middle of Pa’s rushing around, I came downstairs holding my stomach, saying I might chuck my breakfast. I’d put on my heavy jacket and wrapped up in a blanket long enough so I’d be sweaty and my forehead would feel warm, but he never checked. After a quick looking over, he said it best to stay behind. Fact is, he seemed relieved. Maybe it was one less thing to worry about. He took me aside before they left and said to rest up, but to keep up with chores if I felt well enough, and not make any mess. He squeezed my shoulder before trotting to the wagon, with only a quick turn and smile once he was in the seat.
I ran upstairs and listened from my window after that. Pa told our foreman Hugh the same thing as me about keeping the place clean as possible and then he told Hoss to get moving.
Pa must’a seen that I wasn’t exactly lying, even if I wasn’t exactly truthful either. Worrying about the day Adam gets off that stage lodged a rock in my stomach that keeps me from eating or sleeping well. Lately I dream about Adam calling my name from a shadow, asking why I stopped remembering him. I wake up thrashing, trying to put a face to that voice, but I still can’t.
Hop Sing knows I’m “scared sick,” more’n sick – sick. He’s asked what’s bothering me a few times since Pa left, but with him being so close to Adam before he went away, he’d think me horrible for forgetting him.
I do feel better now that Pa and Hoss are gone. Even if Adam is there waiting, they’ll still be gone at least three days.
Miss Jones gave us a spelling word last week to show the “I before E” rule. It was “reprieve.” She said it means that you get a break from something you aren’t looking forward to happening, at least for a short time. I got a three-day reprieve from having to face Adam. It isn’t long, but as Pa and Hoss drove off, I started feeling hungry and could breathe better.
Waiting (Hoss and Ben)
“We’ve been here three days now, Pa. Are you plannin’ to wait no matter how long it takes?” I ask as I search the southeast horizon for any sign of wagon dust. The days have passed slow since we made it here. Pa said to bring books and some whittling pieces to pass the time. There’s never a chance to do things like that at home, but with nothing but time to do them out here, I’m kind’a tired of doing them already.
I done some explorin’ each day too, using the horse we brought alone in case we have to leave before Adam gets here. We’re beyond the southeast part of the lake, where we don’t often come. I sniffed out a few caves not far from here and saw some interestin’ critters out and about. The grass this far south is good in spring, but it’s hot here in the summer, and everything will be brown by July. Pa and me took the wagon off a ways to search for box canyons for winter shelter if our herd gets big enough one day to need “options,” as he put it.
“We’ll stay as long as the food holds out,” Pa finally tells me, and then laughs. “I wouldn’t want Adam to find you starved to death.” He joins me looking south, and I’m betting he wishes he’d see dust as much as I do. Then he added, “If he isn’t here by tomorrow, we’ll leave the horse we trailed, a saddle, and supplies. But let’s pray he comes soon. It will be hard to leave without him.”
“Won’t Shine* starve if he’s tied up?” I ask without really thinking it through.
“There’s plenty of grass, and he’s got a water hole nearby,” Pa says with a smile. “You might not remember that Adam trained Shine to stay put. Even if he does wander off a bit to eat, he’ll recognize Adam’s voice. I’ll leave a note with the supplies telling him to whistle if Shine is off exploring.”
“I should’a remembered that. But … Pa,” I tell him with some worry. “I whistled for Shine a few times when I used him, and he acted like he forgot what that meant. What if he don’t come fer Adam either.”
This causes Pa to smile again. “Shine responds to Adam’s voice and his whistle. To our ears, whistles sound similar, but animals must hear so much better, they can distinguish one from the other. It’s been a while, but he’ll remember what to do. Watch him once Adam’s home, and you’ll see his ears pick up every time Adam speaks.”
“Why does that sound familiar, Pa? I never thought too much about it, but my horse comes when I call him too, and I can tell his whinny apart from all the others in the corral.”
“You’re thinking of the gospel** where Jesus says, ‘I know mine and mine know me,’ in the story of the Good Shepherd. Lots of adages and sayings we use regularly are adapted from scripture because most people understand their meaning.”
“What do you mean?”
“How about do unto others what you would have them do unto you.”
I offer, “Oh, maybe doing hard work by the sweat of your brow, or fallin’ from grace?”
“Absolutely. And when it comes to you, Little Joe, and Adam, there’s, my brother’s keeper. You probably think I’m as old as Methuselah. Calling someone a scapegoat when they’re blamed for something bad or a Jonah when they seem to bring bad luck come to mind too. The one I like is when someone says you’re a man after their own heart.”
While I’m trying to remember others, I see what makes my heart take off. Pointing, I holler louder than intended. “Dust, Pa! Somethin’s comin’!”
Pa sounded easy while talkin’ a minute a go, but I see him change instantly as he shields his eyes against the sun. When he spots what I do, his face turns hard as the rocks around us, and I start to worryin’. Part of me says it’ll be best if I get to Adam first, say welcome home, and then step back so him and Pa can be alone. But a voice in my brain is telling me I should stay close because something is off.
Is Three a Crowd? (Hoss)
It took forever for that cloud of dust to show what was causin’ it. I’ve seen a stage coach when we were in San Franciso. They run a few miles between cities on the coast, but Pa says that if the trip Adam’s on goes well, they’ll become a common sight throughout the West. The one comin’ towards us is shaped some different, but it’s surely what we’ve been waiting for. My smile is so big it’s hurtin’ my cheeks, and I’m kind’a bouncin’ up and down with excitement. A quick glance at Pa shows me he’s frozen like a statue.
The driver atop the big coach begins to slow the four-horse team well before getting here. That lets the dust catch up to it, makin’ a cloud I can’t see through until it slows enough to where the wheels ain’t blowing dirt everywhere.
When he finally brings the thing to a stop, he waves, and shouts, “You two waiting on someone?” before laughing. “Adam will be as happy to get out of this torture chamber as you are to have him home.” The guy speaking turns to his partner on the driver’s seat and back at us. “If you’re Mr. Cartwright, then let me say how much we both appreciated having your son as a passenger. He’s a fine man.”
Pa offers his thanks along with a salute. Stage coaches and prairie schooners get talked about like ships sometimes, so he might see these men as captains.
The drivers untie the canvas ropes on the roof to get my brother’s case and bag, handing them down to me, as the coach door finally cracks open. I try to see inside, but it’s shadowed so much I can’t make nothin’ out except a bunch’a legs.
Three men sort’a ooze out in succession and jump down once they’s free of the tangle in there, and take their time stretchin’ and yawning before sayin’ hello to us. Two more guys follow, and finally Adam’s head pops out the door and his hands grip the frame to make his jump. At least I assume it’s Adam since that coach only holds six people according to what Pa told me. But the face lookin’ down at us makes my jaw fall open. A quick look lets me see Pa’s mouth is hangin’ too. I do another count of the guys on the ground, and it adds up to this bein’ Adam, although my eyes are saying it can’t be him.
I’m thinking he’ll look more like himself once he’s on the ground, but when his feet settle and he stands to face me, I’m still staring and gaping. The difference is that now he’s starin’ back at me with his jaw droopin’ too. And then Adam and me start to laughin’ at the same time.
“You done changed some,” I finally get out as I hurry forward with my hand out for a hearty shake. The shake turns into a bear hug as I lift him up. He’s some taller, his face is a little wider and he just looks different, partly because he’s sportin’ a growth of whiskers from the trip. His shape is different too with wider shoulders, yet he ain’t any heavier than I remember. It’s like his weight shifted around so he looks like a man instead of a kid! And doggone if he don’t look smarter too.
While I’m still tryin’ to put words to what I’m seeing, he croaks out, “I expected you’d grow some, Hoss. But I didn’t expect you to be as tall as the pines and strong as the mountains they grow on!” He tries to laugh and finally squeaks out, “Put me down before you bust my ribs!”
I kind’a drop him and we both do a head to toe look of each other before we bust out laughing again. “If I done changed so much, how’d you even recognize me?” I ask while sucking in a decent breath.
“The important parts don’t change, Hoss,” he tells me in a softer voice that the rest of those guys can’t hear. “I’d recognize your smile anywhere; your voice has deepened, but the way you speak remains the same, and your eyes are still as blue as the summer sky. You’re probably seeing the things you remember most about me too.”
“Yer right! You got them eyes that can look greenish brown, or sometimes, like when you were hoppin’ mad at us, they got nearly black.”
He nods and looks around, one cheek risin’ like he’s confused, while he steps a little closer. “I see Pa waiting patiently, but not Little Joe. I’m sure he’s changed even more than you, but by process of elimination, he’s not here. Is he off exploring?”
“He weren’t feeling too good and stayed back to rest up.” I was about to say more about how our youngest brother’s been actin’ skittish about the idea of Adam getting home, just to warn him that something might be goin’ on in that kid’s head. But Pa’s making his way over.
I expected him to grab Adam tight and not let go for some minutes, but instead he shakes hands and says, “Welcome home, Son.” They ain’t lettin’ go of each other’s hands, and maybe he ain’t doin’ or sayin’ more because Pa’s not one to make scenes in front of strangers. But this cool welcome is turning Adam’s eyes dark like I just mentioned, and a look of confusion borderin’ on disappointment flashes across his face when he looks over at me.
Pa and Adam were always close as two peas sittin’ in a pod, so this somber “welcome home” seems strange.
What hurts my heart as I watch, is I sense Adam wants a bear hug from Pa more’n anything.
This just got even stranger! I was still expectin’ Pa to sort’a gather Adam closer and say a private welcome. But after a quick, stiff-armed pat on the shoulder he walked away to ask the stage drivers if they’d like to use our campsite for the night before attempting the mountain pass. The one says there’s enough daylight to make the relay station closest to the pass, and they’ll start over the mountain come dawn. Then he called the others to get aboard.
The five guys shake our hands and give Adam some friendly shoves and back slaps, recalling a few “incidents” on the trip, and then wish him luck before packing back into the coach.
With a whistle to the team, and a shout goodbye to us, the driver manning the reins moves the horses in a wide arc westward, and they’re away. We stand watching and before long, they’re no more than a cloud of trailing dust. With nothin’ more to watch, the three of stare at one another in silence.
Five years of Pa adding a request for this day to come onto our supper prayers, have been answered, yet the joy of it seems to have crawled into that coach and is headin’ towards the horizon. Pa looks like he got punched in the stomach with no air left to talk, and Adam … well … he might be wishin’ he was on that coach that’s carryin’ Pa’s joy.
I’d pictured this day so different. Men don’t say they love each in words, but they tell it other ways. Why isn’t Pa saying how much he missed Adam, and that he’d wanted this day since he watched the wagon leave for Boston? And with nothin’ comin’ from Pa, Adam don’t know what to say neither.
Things get harder as the seconds tick by in silence, and I’m getting to feel like fire ants crawled inside my pant legs and are biting me.
“Hey, Adam,” I say to break into the walls of the triangle created by the way we’re standin’. “Let’s get your stuff on the wagon and go home. Hop Sing can’t wait to see you, and Little Joe’s surely feeling better by this time. Pa and I got everything set just in case. If we keep good time, and have some moonlight, we’ll get home in time for breakfast.
Adam’s eyes track from me to Pa. “I’m looking forward to getting all the way home, but could we travel until dusk and stop for the night?” He gives us a nervous smile before going on. “We’d need to slow down a lot once it’s dark, so we won’t lose that much time by stopping.” He looks towards me. “You got a glimpse of the uncomfortable conditions in that stage, and I hate to admit my weakness in saying I’m so tired and glad to be out of there, I’d sure appreciate stretching out in the fresh air under the stars for a few hours sleep before finishing the trip. I’m anxious to see everyone, but I don’t want to doze off while talking to them.”
He smiled again and winked, something I remember him doing all the time when he was making a serious point so it didn’t seem quite so serious. Then he added, “If we can find a puddle near where we camp, I’ll jump in for a bath so I can tolerate myself again. Besides being cramped inside that coach, conditions had become highly aromatic. Hoss gets high praise for keeping his nose from twitching; his face from not registering my stench, and for not gagging during that hug. I kept my set of clean clothes in hopes of washing up.”
That made me laugh. I noticed he smelled like a cowpie warmed by the noon sun, but then I smell pretty ripe anytime I work hard and don’t get a bath. “Sounds good to me, if Pa agrees. You do look run hard and put away wet. And it would be best not to fall asleep talking to anyone. They’d see you as rude as well as stinky.”
My answer even made Pa laugh. “That is a good plan,” he said. “We brought Shine along to leave behind in case we’d have to go home before the stage came, so Hoss can ride ahead in the morning to let Hop Sing know we’re on the way. Knowing that man, his intuition will have alerted him anyway, but he can plan for a time to serve his feast.”
Pa turns my way. “Do you recall a spring-fed pool a few hours north?” I nod my agreement. “Can we make that by dusk?” He asks. I nod again. “Adam can snooze in the wagon if he needs to, and once we arrive, we’ll cook up a feast of our own while he cleans up.”
Me and Adam still seem stuck to the ground, until Pa hollers to get moving. He ain’t mad though. His eyes are twinkling, so I figure whatever had him frozen at first has started to thaw.
Regrowing a Few Roots (Adam)
While I’d worried about today, I suspect Pa was even more uneasy. Thank heaven for Hoss. He often claims he isn’t smart, but that isn’t true except when he gets taken in by our youngest brother. Where I saw his intelligence at work today was is recognizing what he saw happening … or more properly … what wasn’t happening between me and Pa. I watched his expression when our father’s words seemed less than excited at seeing me, and how the absence of any real physical welcome left us standing stiff and silent after the stage left. There was a moment when I wondered if I should run after it, and then, if Pa was hoping I would.
But Hoss knew he had to get us talking. Not about anything important, just about stinky bodies and validating the fact that I looked ready to fall asleep upright. It felt normal: like there hadn’t been so many years separating this conversation from the last.
My hope for sleeping under a starry sky tonight has proven more spectacular than I imagined. I drink it in like a thirsty deer at a stream. The evening is nearly cold, but I’ve trapped a little leftover warmth in the ground I’m resting on: enough to soothe the cramped muscles in my back. The blanket I left warming by the fire before turning in, is keeping me comfortable, and my feet, now in clean socks, are resting on a hot rock taken from the ring around the blaze. This may not be a comfortable bed with the sheets smelling like Hop Sing’s soap and fresh air, but tonight it welcomes me home in ways that nothing else could.
It’s funny how some memories return instantly. I know Hoss is asleep because I hear his gurgly snore. It’s deeper in tone, and more voluminous than when I left, but I’d know it was my brother even in a room full of snoring men. Pa’s breathing has become regular too, a sure sign he’s drifted off. He snores too, but not until later when he’s deeply asleep. Rather than annoying me or being the cause of my wakefulness, they provide comfort just like the warm ground, blanket, and rock.
Hoss always snored, even as a little kid. I’d smash the pillow over my head while tossing and turning, until I learned that when you can’t change something, you can learn to live with it and even appreciate it. When still home, I’d time my breathing to his for a while if I couldn’t sleep, and pretty soon I’d be out cold.
While away, when I couldn’t stop reviewing a particularly harried day or my brain would not shut down after studying for a test, I’d imagine Hoss’ rhythmic snore to block out that “noise” inside my head. It always worked.
Hearing Pa and Hoss’ distinctive breathing brings a calm end to this strange day. After the awkward beginning, getting organized and headed for home broke though the iciness. But things quieted again for a while, until Hoss took the verbal reins while Pa controlled the leather ones.
My brother’s intuitive soul kept him from beginning an inquisition about my time away. Instead, he talked about how he and Pa looked around while waiting for me, considering whether improving this road might be necessary soon. Then he pointed out canyons we might use if we moved steers down this way, and suggested we come back in fall to see if the grass greens up with cooler temperatures and a little rain. The miles progressed quickly, listening to his thoughts on a cattle breed he’d read about, and his insistence that for him, he was mightily happy to be through with school, followed by his lengthy explanation of what he’d been doing since getting done with Miss Jones. The best part was that he sought my thoughts about some ideas. I knew he was making small talk, not real plans, and I followed his lead in keeping it light natured.
The one thing I believe he did try to gage, was my reaction to him ending his formal schooling. I suspect he worried that I’d be disappointed in him not sticking it out longer. I assured him that he chose to do as he felt was right, and that not everyone needs the same kind of education. I further assured him that he will learn about topics he has interest in.
He proved my point immediately by bringing up a half-dozen books he’s already read. There was one about plants that cattle shouldn’t eat and how to identify their behavior if they do; another about managing pastures, and still another with tips to choose the best bulls and heifers for breeding. He hadn’t simply read these. He comprehended the complicated concepts and formulas, and is considering how to adapt them to the circumstances of western ranching.
We were near the campsite when Hoss switched to stories about my youngest brother, and I became increasingly aware that Hoss is still an easy touch for Little Joe. Just about every adventure they did cooperatively revealed Hoss ending up just feet from the gates of perdition. The funniest part is that he seems unaware, or he doesn’t mind the near-miss nature of his brother’s schemes. If Joe can come up with these plans at age 12, I fear what he’ll figure out at the ripe old age of 15 and beyond.
As far as I’m concerned, as an educated man, I will spot the pitfalls of anything Joe comes up with, and stay clear of being sucked into his tornados of trouble.
We found the water hole as the sun colored the late afternoon sky a brilliant orange, and I let Pa and Hoss make camp and cook dinner. Grabbing a bar of Hop Sing’s soap from Pa’s kit, I headed directly for the water and gratefully stripped out of my smelly attire. The air and water were warm enough to linger, and the pool was big enough to take a few strokes before turning onto my back and floating in weightlessness.
When I decided to shave and scrub clean, I found the pool shallow enough to stand in the middle, although the bottom was soft, letting my toes sink into goo. Most people hate that feeling, but today it feels like I’m sending new roots into the fertile mud. The washing finished, I did a quick aroma check of the most offensive areas to ensure success, did a final rinse of my feet as I exited, and found a broad, flat boulder still holding afternoon heat, to lay out flat. It was hard … as a rock … but the heat penetrated every muscle and finally eased away the cramping I’d experienced from my neck to my toes the entire trip.
I’d had to endure the pain in the coach because there was nothing to do about it. Conditions were tight to begin with and I’m taller than most men, so I took up more room to start. Our being packed in there might have been tolerable on flat roads. But these were so rutted and bumpy that even the sling mounting of the coach did little to mitigate the constant jarring. At first, each bump would shoot us upwards to bang the ceiling and drop back like a hammer on an anvil onto barely cushioned seats, sending waves of pain from tailbone to neck. We learned to remain tensed to absorb the shock in our legs and upper back, resulting in less flailing, but frequent cramping in overused muscles.
I could hear Pa and Hoss getting things set, but I stayed put enjoying the quiet to consider what might coming tomorrow. It’s also been a while since I’ve camped or cooked outside, leaving Pa and Hoss laughing at my city slicker clumsiness. When the aroma of food found my empty stomach causing it to rumble like an approaching thunder storm, I donned my clean clothes and headed over.
It seemed a wasteful thing when new clothing is still hard to come by out here, but after our meal was removed from the flames, I tossed the bundle of travel clothes into the fire, watching them burn in a symbolic end to the trip.
A natural, less forced conversation began when our whiskey spiked coffee began to loosen our tongues. Pa teased that he would ask questions about one topic tonight instead of demanding an accounting of my entire time away. True to his word, he starting with questions about the health and wellbeing of Abel. Assured that he is doing well, Pa continued, asking how easily the two of us got past our first meeting. It felt good to talk about my grandfather since he’s been sitting just below the surface of my thoughts the entire trip home.
When Hoss’ loud yawning became a contagion, Pa declared we should rest up for a start at dawn.
I ended my recollections by saying I’d truly enjoyed my time with Abel Stoddard. I even mentioned offering him a home with us, if he would be willing to make the trip with me at a more leisurely pace than the way I ultimately chose. He’d considered it, but nothing could persuade him to leave the coast.
I told Pa, “Like most men who are comfortable with themselves and their life, Grandfather was stuck between his absolute agony at seeing me leave, and his absolute surety that his future remained in Boston.”
“Did Captain Stoddard ask that you stay with him?” Pa asked in as casual way as possible while wiping out his cup and stowing it with the other utensils. His tone didn’t fool me. I’d suspected he’d wonder whether Abel might appeal to our newfound closeness in suggesting I remain in Boston to work at my chosen career.
“No … never,” I assured him truthfully. “He asked that I consider returning one day for a long visit, and even made a promise that should new means of transportation make travel to the West less like a lengthy expedition, he would visit us.” I thought back to my time in Abel’s home, and smiled. “Grandfather always knew my time with him was limited and that I’d head home again. He often remarked what a good father you must be that despite all I’d come to love in Boston, I would want to be only one place when my education was complete.”
I couldn’t see Pa’s face after telling him that, but there was a smile in his voice as he thanked me for treating Able so well. With more yawning beginning to infect our ability to continue, the evening came to an end.
I’m even more exhausted than earlier, but I can’t quite drift off.
The cool air made me pull the wool blanket up to my nose, but my head’s still cold. I’m suddenly reminded that the cowhands sleep with their hats perched enough to stay on and add shelter. I don my hat, anchoring the brim on my forehead while allowing a slit between it and the blanket to continue viewing the sky.
This hat was a going away gift from Grandfather. He made me toss the sweat-stained one I’d been wearing when I arrived, in favor of a cap more suited to Boston life. But Abel recalled me talking about the usefulness of the style I’d worn, with its wide brim keeping the sun off my forehead and neck while working in the open, and directing rain around the trough created by brim to exit away from my back and keep me drier. He presented me with a gray felt Stetson that suits me well, and served as a symbol of my return to a former way of life.
I wonder what he’d think of the ten-gallon style Hoss has worn for years. Of the many changes that surprised me about my brother today, the hat sitting on his head was a pleasant reminder of his uniqueness. The startling part is that he is already several inches over six feet tall now with the hat adding several more to make him even more formidable, at least until he smiles and ruins the illusion of being tougher than old beef.
To keep my new headgear from getting crushed, I packed it in the bag that rode atop the stage. When I centered it on my head after retrieving it from my travel bag earlier, the stiffness of the new fabric and band kept it from conforming to the shape of my head as it will after it softens.
I’m anticipating that this uncomfortable breaking-in period with my hat is an accurate predictor of how my life will feel. It was my decision to leave home, knowing that my family would develop a new way of operating without me. I’m sure to feel like things don’t fit just right in my life for some time. There will be referenced experiences I’ll have had no part in, and with Hoss being too young to step into my role with Pa when I left, my father has surely made plans unilaterally. I’ve no illusion that everything will go smooth as fresh butter, but I’ll do my best to adapt and adjust until we all become comfortable with each other again. Putting this into a proverb and an idiom, I’ll expect that patience will be a virtue, and time will heal the wounds caused by my absence.
Unfortunately, there are “wounds,” even if my family would never admit they have them. I’ll need to listen carefully to what’s not being said as well as to what is. Hopefully that will ease me through what may feel at times like accusations, and keep me from reacting in ways I might regret.
Chances are I’ll face this head on tomorrow. There’s a reason Joe didn’t come with Pa. Hoss tried to explain and I saw both of them wince anytime I mentioned Joe’s name tonight. I’d worried about how my absence would affect the kid, and I’m now afraid the wounds I caused had a long time to fester. Yet, letters from home gave no indication of trouble. Hoss was honest enough that he would have let something slip between the lines. Hopefully whatever he’s dealing with came up recently.
Thankfully, the nervousness from the first part of this homecoming was eased by the comfort of a bath, a meal, good conversation, and the starry sky. My back is still tingling from the last of the warmth trapped under me. At least that’s the physical explanation. Yet as I begin to doze off, I wonder if it’s not more of those roots I imagined earlier sending tendrils downward to anchor me home.
Abandoned (Hoss)
Somethin’ just happened I cannot explain. All them nerves that kept Pa from sayin’ much when Adam got here yesterday, eased on the ride to our overnight stop. Adam did good too after gettin’ a bath and something decent in his belly, and we had a real nice evening.
I got up as the heavy dark waned some towards dawn, and poked life into the coals enough to fry up some bacon and eggs. We all ate quick without sayin’ much more’n how good we all slept and laughin’ at how Adam looked like an agin’ lizard crawlin’ so stiff-like from his bedroll. He said it was good to sleep flat for the first time in some weeks, but that he was still feelin’ all them miles of bein’ tied up like a knot.
And then, a cool breeze blew through camp. Pa laughed when Adam mentioned the trip home, but then his eyes went squinty and I saw that same sour look wash across his face that has been around for some weeks when he thought no one was watchin’ him. I got the bad feelin’ that Pa was experiencing a stiff spirit over somethin’ Adam said about his stiff body.
Pa’s nerves were back. His change in attitude chilled me enough to shiver, but I figured this was “the day” he’d put so much effort into preparing. What I couldn’t figure, was how anything Adam said could have bothered him.
Nothin’ more happened just then, and while Adam packed up the camp gear, I went to saddle Shine so I could get goin’ for home like Pa had said yesterday. Just I was grabbin’ the tack from the back of the wagon, Pa took my arm and led me a few paces off, sayin’ he’d decided to go first instead to make sure everything was ready at home.
I was happy for a second, thinkin’ maybe he had a special surprise in mind for when Adam got there, so I finished saddling Shine and brought him to Pa.
Adam was tossing the last of the supplies into the wagon when Pa mounted up, and he gave me a questinin’ look, I suppose wonderin’ why I wasn’t on the horse. “Pa’s got a few things he needs to check, so he’s goin’ home instead,” I explained, making my brother nod.
He looked like he was gonna reply to that, but Pa cut him off, sayin’, “I’d suggest you go first and surprise everyone, Adam, but you’ve probably forgotten the way by now.” It would’a been funny … if Pa’s voice hadn’t been dead serious.
Adam’s head popped back like he’d been slapped, then looking my way, probably wondering if I’d heard the same tone he had. What he was the same startled expression on my face.
He forced himself to smile and kept his tone respectful. “It’d be hard to get lost since the road ends in our yard.” He winked before adding, “I got to know this land pretty well, but I suppose I could get turned around if I’d go off exploring to see all the changes Hoss was telling about yesterday.”
Pa’s cheeks reddened like a beet, and again, I couldn’t figure that response. When he spoke again that same angry voice was there.
“You’re right, Adam,” he cracked out like a shotgun in the still air. “This road only has one destination, but that’s the problem, isnt’ it? You’ll have to deal with the fact that after making such a miserable trip home, there’s nothing between here and there but grass and dust. You won’t find a big city at the end; no professors or esteemed dignitaries to talk to or receive praises from; no Abel Stoddard or rich roommate’s family catering to your whims. What is there, is a lot of hard work that won’t tap into all that fancy education I paid for. It wouldn’t surprise me if when that does hit home a few miles down this road, you’ll want to cut southwest across all this land you claim to know so well, and catch up with that stage before it gets into the mountains. San Francisco is no Boston, but it has more to offer than this dot on the map called the Ponderosa.”
Adam took a step backwards grabbing the side of the wagon for balance, as the words hit him like a load of buckshot square to the chest. He couldn’t say nothin’, but it wouldn’t have mattered since Pa immediately yanked Shine’s reins to the right and mumbled that he’d see us later … if Adam did decide to finish the trip.
My brother might be 23, but the look on his face as we climbed onto the wagon seat took me back to our early years here. I was a nubbin back then, and can’t remember much from when we lived winters in a tiny cabin in the high woods near streams where Pa trapped. But one memory did get “burned” in my mind from then.
It weren’t done on purpose, but when I was three or four-years-old, I jumped into a pile of bedclothes Adam had collected on the floor, intendin’ to air them out in the sunshine while Pa went to check our traps. I skidded forward on landing, and the edges of that bedding pushed forward into the fireplace. I ran off screeching as those thinner parts took a flame before Adam even realized what had happened. It scared me so much; I hid in the corner hollerin’ while Adam tried to stomp out the growing blaze.
Pa heard the ruckus from outside and came tearin’ in to see my brother stepping out the flames in them blankets. He pulled the rest of the stuff away to keep it from burning, and started yellin’, accusing Adam of bein’ careless because he was mad about bein’ asked to do chores, and how we’d freeze without that quilt and blankets that were damaged. My brother tried to explain, but Pa wouldn’t listen. He seemed blind and deaf, and more worried about that stuff than about his son, never even checking to see if Adam was all right. Adam stood there, “barefoot,” covered in soot, while Pa laid out a heavy punishment, tellin’ him to get things back into order while he was gone, and then ordered him to get me ready to go with him so’s I be safe.
What got burned in my mind, was after Adam got me dressed and put a bag together with toys and food, he watched from the door while Pa pulled me away in the sled. I didn’t want to look at him for feeling so awful at lettin’ him take the blame, but I finally glanced back as we pulled out. He was so white and pained lookin’, I thought he was gonna keel over. It stayed with me because I was the one Pa should’a been punishing. Adam must’a felt he’d been kicked out of the family; had nothing left to ever be happy about again, and probably like he’d been set in front of a firing squad and taken a bullet to the heart.3
I told Pa the truth while we was trapping, and I saw him look sick with his mistake. The day got worse when we got home. Adam wasn’t just sad or hurt in his heart; he’d stomped that fire out with bare feet and barelegged, and got burned bad. Still he’d done everything Pa ordered, and even had supper done. The truth started comin’ out when he couldn’t hold a fork cuz his hands were so raw from sewin’ together a new blanket for us out of the tough hide pelts he’d trapped to earn a little money too. Pa had the tools with us, so he’d done it by poking a needle through leather with his bare hand. It was so tough, he poked holes through his fingers too. Then he’d hurt them more scrubbing the floor to get the burn marks out.
Pa looked sick with worry when he saw Adam’s hands, and was real gentle with him that night. But just like now, neither of them found the right words to say even though they was both hurtin’. It wasn’t done yet. Pa found the blisters on Adam’s legs when he checked him after seeing how restless he was in bed. I heard my brother cryin’ out while Pa washed him up and put salve on them, but pretended to sleep cuz I didn’t know what else to do.
When I woke up the next morning, Adam was on Pa’s lap in the rocking chair, both sound asleep. Things seemed good between ‘em when they woke up. Adam spent the next couple days getting’ better, with Pa takin’ good care of him, and as far as I know, he never held a grudge against either of us.
I asked Adam later why Pa acted like he did, and he said it was cuz our father was scared about what could have happened that day, and it came out sounding angry.
After watching what’s been going on these last few weeks, I’m guessing Pa’s afraid Adam won’t like bein’ home even after him wanting it for so long. That fear came out sounding just as angry and accusing’ as that day in the cabin. This time Pa can’t fix it by rocking Adam on his lap and sayin’ he’s sorry.
Those last words made it clear he don’t expect Adam to be in this wagon when it arrives, and that might be just fine with him.
***
We’ve been on the road for a good amount of time since …. I don’t rightly know what to call what Pa did. Almost felt like he was reading the charges and judgment against him, right before he’d be executed. Adam ain’t said a thing. After a few minutes of sitting ramrod straight and looking ahead, he put his feet on the front edge of the wagon; leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, and lowered his head into his hands. I wasn’t sure what he was doin’, but it looked like he just couldn’t hold himself upright anymore. I thought back to how it looked like he’d been hit by buckshot at Pa’s words, so maybe them wounds had pierced deep enough that he felt he was bleedin’ out. Funny how wounds from words sometimes hurt more’n physical pain.
I don’t know what to say that he’d want to hear just yet, so I get the team to a good pace, and start to whistln’ quiet-like.
***
Judging by things we’re passing, it’s been a couple hours of traveling in silence. Adam sat back up a while ago, and slouched onto the seat back. It’s like he’s gone blank and can’t put nothin’ into words. It might not be the right place to start, but I gotta try something.
“So, Adam,” I say while nudgin’ his elbow with mine. “Just what ‘whims’ did your granddaddy and that other feller indulge you in? If they were pretty good, I might have to make a trip to Boston myself to get in on a few of them.”
His head moved slowly in my direction and he started to laugh.
“That’s a good question! Maybe we should turn this wagon around and go see. I know the way.”
He got quiet again, but this time I knew he was thinkin’ towards an answer.
“Abel has a comfortable life,” he began. “But there was no extra money to supply me with anything but necessities. Where he did indulge me, was with stories about his life, and his memories of both my mother and Pa. The other people Pa mentioned are the Wadsworths. They are wealthy and had a grand estate, but they were mindful of not providing me with anything that my father couldn’t have given me. They treated me like family but I never withheld that from Pa, and he seemed happy I had people watching over me. They assigned a horse for my use, and when I could ride, I was expected to take care of him rather than dropping him off afterwards for their stable men. If I was invited to an occasion and didn’t have the proper attire, such clothes were loaned to me only for the day. I received birthday and Christmas gifts from Grandfather and the Wadsworth, but they were never pricey. Usually it was books or something I would have gotten for myself to replace what had worn out. I’ve returned with little more in my satchels than I left with.
He stopped to think. “I was in one of the nicer dorm rooms with Frankie Wadsworth instead of in the third floor, barrack-style halls. But his father arranged that as consideration for me helping Frankie through our courses and teaching him to study. Frankie was a great, fun guy, but an awful student. He taught me how to get along in a society I’d never partaken of, and I helped him graduate as a decent engineer.”
“Pa knows all that, Adam,” I tell him. “You were always honest about who you was getting to know and the nice things that happened because you were smart and willin’ to help. He surely didn’t mean any of what he said, but I can’t explain why he said it either. I know fer sure that he missed you every day you were gone. Maybe it’s like that time way back when I started that fire on accident, and you said he sounded mad because he was scared he might’a lost us because he’d got so worried about getting those pelts that he lost sight of what was more important: us kids. He’s hoped fer so long to have you back, maybe he’s scared about how things will work out after all that time apart. Instead of saying that, he let his worry talk.”
He wraps his arm around my shoulders. “You’re a good brother, Hoss … and you’re becoming a good man too.” After a tick, he adds, “But Joe doesn’t want to see me either, and don’t bother denying that. And Pa couldn’t wait to get away from me. I’ve worried about fitting in again, but I never dreamed those worries would be validated so soon. Maybe after all that worry on his part, Pa’s decided he doesn’t want me home after all.”
There’s a small catch in his voice when he says, “You are the only one who doesn’t seem upset that I’m back.”
I want to tell him everything will be fine, but I can’t. What Pa said to him might just come true. Not because they are true but because with both Pa and Little Joe leaving Adam feeling unwelcome, they’ll make them come true.
“Pa has had the devil whisperin’ in his ear,” I tell him. “He’s imagined this for so long that he’s messin’ it up. Like in that fire, he only saw what could’a happened instead of being thankful that everything was fine. He’ll figure it out.
“It was always the plan that I come home. I never wavered on that for a minute. What more could I have done to make him believe that?”
I know he’s sayin’ this to himself more’n to me.
“Yer doin’ everything right. There’s something you’re not takin’ into account though. Something you can’t see, but both me and Pa saw as soon as you stuck yer head out that stage door. It might be what set Pa off.”
“Did I do something wrong … act too cocky?”
“Nope. But the son who got off that stage wasn’t the son Pa pictured all your years away. Pa couldn’t’a predicted how much you’d change. That boy he was expecting home, looked like someone he’d be doin’ business with, not the kid who had done everything he’d ever asked of him without question. I don’t think he was ready for that.”
“That sounds reasonable, good prophet, but explain why Joe’s hiding. He hasn’t seen me yet.”
“You’re gonna have to figure that out. He talked about you lots at first. But he stopped as them years counted up. While I grew bigger, I’m the same inside as I was back then. Joe’s as different inside as he looks outside. He acts like he’s sure about everything, but that’s a problem. When you act that way, you can’t ever admit that you’re not sure. Whatever’s botherin’ him, it’s sittin’ heavy.”
The Uncomfortable Ride Home (Ben)
Why did I say those things? The question keeps pummeling my mind like cannon balls hitting starboard and portside at the same time, nearly knocking me off this horse. The house is in sight, and the poor animal I’m riding is exhausted from outrunning the demons chasing me.
Adam is … well … he’s amazing! Taller, broader, handsome. Yet everything Abel ever wrote, along with what the stage drivers and his fellow passengers reported, testifies to him being the kind and thoughtful person he was as a boy. There is confidence, or at least there was until my words took it away. I see no swagger based on his accomplishments or arrogance because of his exceptional experiences in Boston either.
Instead of being thankful that he chose to come home when the world was open to him, I laid the fear of my own inadequacies on his shoulders. The look of betrayal growing on his face which each ugly accusation haunts me. And then I ran away. I don’t think of myself as a coward.
I was one today.
This isn’t me. This isn’t the father I was before or want to be. How could I imply that my son is a pampered snob who will hate us for being who we are and have always been. I must replace those ugly words with ones telling of my absolute pride and complete joy at his safe return. The best course now is to set myself to prayer until he gets here with Hoss, asking for a steadier hand on the tiller of my tongue.
***
Riding into the yard, I’m filled with gratitude. Everything is in order as I’d asked of the crew. The Ponderosa is displaying a welcome home that I was unable to offer. Even the roses vining up the support posts on the porch are blossoming early. Beyond that, the geraniums in the window box have red blooms stretching towards the mid-day sun. That same sun is glancing off the spotless windows Hop Sing must have had the med climb up and wash, and there’s a fresh scent of pine on the breeze. The perfect setting I’d wished it to be, now occupied by the imperfect man whose words may have ruined everything forever.
Hop Sing came running at hearing my approach, but gave me a disappointed once-over while inquiring whether my arrival indicates Adam is on the way. He stood a moment, probably hoping I’d show that I share his excitement. I’m still unnerved, and remain mute and barely manage a smile.
His eyes pull together, delivering his most judgmental expression before he turns and heads back to the house, allowing an enticing aroma to waft into the yard from the kitchen door as he enters. The fact that I can’t distinguish what he’s cooking indicates he has multiple items in preparation, meaning he sensed Adam would arrive today. The feast will be gratefully devoured once Adam arrives, with Hoss leading the men to the tables.
Little Joe didn’t come outside, making me wonder if he was truly ill rather than uneasy about seeing Adam. Yet Hop Sing expressed no concern regarding him, making me assume all is well. I’ll check him on my way to get a change of clothes and spend a few minutes alone in contrition.
***
Joe was not in his room, sending me back downstairs before I go ahead with my plans. Passing through the kitchen, I find Hop Sing stirring pots, checking the oven, slicing bread, and peeling potatoes, seemingly all at the same time, and stop to ask, “How is Joe, and where might he be?”
“He do good after you and Hoss leave. Ate, stay outside most of day, and helped men keep barn clean. Today not good. Got up, went out, no breakfast. Stay outside. Maybe in barn.”
“You think it’s because Adam’s due home soon?” I ask, expecting an honest answer from this honest man.
He nods, then shrugs. “Oldest and youngest sons always good before. Something big on shoulders, but won’t say. Maybe he tell you.”
***
It takes my eyes a bit to adjust to the shadows in the barn, finally spotting Joe on an overturned pail in his horse’s stall. “What’s going on, son?” I ask.
“Nothin’.” He replies too instantly to be truthful.
My tone takes a more demanding character as I realize there’s not much time to get to the truth. “It’s unlike you mope in the dark. And don’t bother denying that’s what you’re doing. I know your expressions. I suspected you weren’t ill the day we left, and Hop Sing confirmed that you were fine until this morning when he started cooking for the homecoming.”
“I was fine until today,” he offers. I know he’s being truthful since he looks me in the eyes. “Maybe I’m getting sick for real,” he adds as his eyes drift away into less truthful territory.
Checking his forehead and finding it normal, I take his hand and walk him to a bench outside to see his color better. “You are pale,” I conclude. “But there’s no fever. What’s wrong?”
“My stomach and head hurt.” His eyes suddenly pop open. “Is Adam here already? I didn’t hear the wagon, but if you’re here, then he must be too.”
“I came ahead on Shine. It’ll take Hoss and Adam longer in the wagon.” The boy’s shoulders relax downwards and a deep sigh brings color back to his cheeks. His response to thinking Adam had arrived leaves me speculative. “What I see is a boy who is not anxious to see his brother. So much so, he’s making himself sick. Why is that?”
Whereas the previous answer was given directly, Joe now looks down at his feet while mumbling, “It’s fine.”
“It’s fine? So … you’re simply resigned to the fact that it’s happening?”
I’m a hypocrite. I just ruined my own long-awaited reunion, but maybe I can help Little Joe to not repeat my mistake. “Might you be jealous of the attention being paid to your brother? It’s hard to see everyone so intent on welcoming someone who chose to leave us all behind. It’s especially hard when you stayed here and continued working hard. Is it possible you were mad that Adam went away and now he thinks he can just come back like leaving us was no big thing?
Joe’s eyes close and I see his jaw clench as he struggles for words to explain his torment. “You can tell me anything,” I encourage. It’s time for some honesty on my part. “I’m struggling too, son. See … I’m not worried that Adam will want things to be just like before. It’s more that things won’t … can’t … ever be the same. That puts everything into a state of not knowing what to expect.”
My youngest continues in silence as I add, “I’ve seen Adam. The truth is that you, Adam, Hoss, and I have all changed during his absence. We look different, and each of us has learned to do new things, while probably handling old things differently too. It will take time to figure out how we get past that. But with patience, we’ll become a better and stronger family than before.”
He looks up at me, his face pale again. “I’m not jealous, Pa. I was so little when he left, it’s more like I don’t remember much about what either of us was like. And all the stuff going on around here makes me feel kind’a sick.”
Little Joe doesn’t realize he looks away when he’s slipping into a lie. He’s trying hard, but his eyes are focused just to the side of me. Of the three boys, Adam was the most skilled with staring at me while he fabricated something. Yet at some point, he’d look away and I’d know. Sometimes I’d call him on it immediately, but other times, he learned more when I’d let the lie stand unchallenged while it wormed its way into his soul until he’d confess. By the time he was Joe’s age, he’d come to terms with my ability to smell manure, and realized it was better to pay the price only for his indiscretion, and not add further punishment for the attempt to deceive.
I’m not sure if Joe is lying or simply doesn’t knows what the truth is. It’s fruitless to push further, so I’ll deal with the effect rather than the cause. “Why don’t you rest until Hoss and Adam get here. By then you should feel better. Hopefully, about everything.”
A quick review of what Joe just said reminds me that he confessed to not remembering “much” about his older brother. Maybe that’s what this is about. I can’t make that better for him; it’s something he’ll need to figure out. I can offer this much, “Whatever your uneasy feeling is about Adam’s return will work out, son. For now, it’s time to celebrate. He did ask about you immediately after getting off the stage, and he’s excited to get here and see you.”
Joe didn’t push back at spending the day in his room, and gave a single nod to my declaration of joy, followed by heading for the house. I’ll give him a few minutes to get in bed, and check on him on my way up to my room. I’m now convinced that his aching stomach and head are really symptoms of his aching heart.
Like father, like son.
The Ride Home Continues. (Hoss)
It got quiet again after talking about Pa and Joe, but Adam seems to be takin’ in the view, not brooding.
“I’ve forgotten how different it is out here,” he says. “Fall blazed with oranges and red back east, and went gray over winter. Come spring, tulips, crocuses, and daffodils blossomed even before the snow melted, followed by fruit trees blooming in pinks, reds and white. By summer, everything was green! Here, the bright greens of spring turns gold or browns in the summer heat, and the few deciduous trees turn copper and yellow mixed in with the pines in fall. Yet this color palate is just as beautiful, nearly more striking for its starkness.” I hear him chuckle after that, and he looks my way when I ask what’s so funny.
“Maybe Pa was right about me getting lost. Shouldn’t we be at the pasture grass closer to the house by now? Although …” His voice trails off.
“You must be feelin’ the horses strainin’ some on the uphill grade now, so you aren’t far off.”
I probably should mind my business, but I ask, “What were you gonna say after ‘although?’ You still bothered about what Pa said?”
“Sure,” He confessed. “Wouldn’t you be? What I was going to say, was, ‘although’ if we are getting close to home, maybe it’s time to take off on foot over to the north shoreline along the wooded hills where we first lived, and slip across a skinny mountain pass like the trappers did. There’s enough in the wagon for a travel kit, and I’d make my way west until I find a wagon to hitch a ride or get to a town to buy a horse. I have some savings from working summers at a livery stable near the docks.
Yer joshin’ me,” I say, and then add, “Ain’t you?”
He shrugs. “Perhaps better to plan my exit instead of being told to go if Pa’s hasn’t resolved his troubles and Joe doesn’t want me home.”
Not knowin’ how to bandage the wound in his heart , I start talkin like I did yesterday. “Yer gonna see a lot more pasture. More’n double than before. Pa plans to buy and breed more steers with you back to help with wrangling and selling ‘em. He’s says you’ll be great broker!”
When he doesn’t react, I keep goin’, “One thing missin’ in that new grass, is watering holes. Pa’s been waitin’ for you, knowing you’ll figure the best way to bring water in.”
He shakes his head. “I know what you’re doing, Hoss. You’ve just told me how Pa has always kept me in his plans, and has a bunch of projects he’ll need help with from the minute I get unpacked. What you’re really telling me is to give him another chance.”
“Purdy much.”
“I plan to do that. Contemplating an escape is a diversion to keep from saying things I might regret.”
I get a shiver when I see the serious set of his face, cuz I suspect what’s comin’. “Hoss …. If getting home doesn’t go well, I may be forced to leave. You feel what others are going through, so you’ll pick up on the situation along with me. I’m sorry for that, but I’d also ask that you don’t try to make things better either. Maybe there’s a reason I shouldn’t be here. Please help me leave quietly and quickly if it comes to that.”
I nod, and start talkin’ again. “Most of the new grass is between here and a mile south of the house. Nearer in, we’re growin’ oats for feed and straw, and the grass is cut for winter hay. Pa rented out that farm he bought from his friend around the time you left.4 The new couple there raises enough to keep Hop Sing supplied with winter vegetables, and they raise our small animals too, although we still got chickens in the yard. I appreciate not having to worry about cleanin’ pens before startin’ to work each day like before.”
“What’s the biggest change?” He asks.
“The new house. But I ain’t sayin’ a thing about that. You’ll be surprised even though you drew it up.”
“Can I trust you?” he asks solemnly.
“Sure. But don’t tell me nothin’ I couldn’t tell Pa if asked.”
“I’ve tried to draw out what I gave Pa back then. I have no idea if it’s close to accurate, so I’ll be more surprised than Pa can imagine … or than I’ll let on.” There’s a pause before he says, “May I ask something else?”
Knowing he won’t ask more’n I can tell him, I nod.
“Letters from home told how the town has grown. Pa wrote about Dave Cass dying in a senseless gunfight, and then mentioned they might hire a lawman for weekends when the trouble usually happens. I was also glad to hear that Abigail Jones was hired to run a small school.”
“The town’s startin’ to take shape,” I confirm. “Pa says they’ll need to set up laws and ordinances before they hire anyone to enforce them. We’re not officially ‘in’ the town, but our ranch is important, so they’re glad to include him. Is that all you wanted to know?”
“What are people in town are saying about me? Could Pa’s earlier comments have been spurred by something I did or said that confirmed the speculative gossip he’s heard?”
“First off, you know Pa takes no stock in talk. There will always be those who find darkness surrounding every good thing. Some of them folks say you’ll think you’re too good for the rest of us now.”
He snorts. “They said that before I left.”
My cheeks crunch up as I deliver the news he should really be concerned about. “Miss Jones is a’flutter over you getting home. Ask Joe about it. Once she sees how good you look, she’ll be chasin’ you all over the countryside tryin’ to get you to romance her.”
“She doesn’t think of me in that way,” he says, makin’ me snort.
“She’s got her sights on you. She always liked you since you had a kind heart for all that bookish stuff she loves. Here’s the thing, brother. It won’t be just Miss Jones. When the single ladies between age 16 and 40 … and their mothers … get a gander at you, they’ll all be wantin’ a proposal with Miss Jones at the front of the pack. You may get to wishin’ you had run away today.”
“Your attempt to change the subject almost worked, Hoss. I suspect it was your hope to withhold what the ones who aren’t interested in bagging a husband are saying.”
He’s like a dog on a bone, so I might as well be honest. “The latest is people sniggerin’ that Pa’s prodigal son is comin’ home. Course they never say that to Pa’s face.”
One side’a Adam’s face rises. “It’s not an accurate depiction, but Pa mentioned paying for an education I’d eventually use against him. Maybe he did come to think I demanded my inheritance for a frolic out East.”
“Whoa there!” I tell him as I slow the team. “You done jumped a wide river of conclusion there. Pa never once complained about money. I asked once if college was expensive. He said it could be, but in yer case, it wasn’t since you got them scholarships for bein’ so smart. The school even paid for yer board to make sure you came there. One time he even laughed about how he’d probably saved money sending you to school instead of having to put you on wages for the ranch work you’d been doing.”
“I know Pa sent money to Abel to make sure I had whatever I needed for fees and needs. It also allowed him to have his housekeeper come more often and leave meals for us when I stayed at his house.” He sighs. “I never meant to strip money from the ranch. Professor Metz guaranteed he’d help me find scholarships. Had I known Pa would resent paying what he did, I would have gotten a better job out there to support myself.”
“You gotta let that go, Adam,” I tell him. “Something just poked at his mind right then that he believed for a minute. Not once did Pa complain about money or yer decision. And he wouldn’t have let that talk about you bein’ a prodigal kid stand if he’d heard it.”
“I am glad you know it wasn’t true.”
“I did more than know it weren’t true.” I grin at him as his eyebrows rise under that nice new hat he’s wearing. “I walked over to some people I overheard talkin’ like that, and told them they was dead wrong. They got embarrassed and I went on to say they should know that with Pa pushin’ for a real school here and puttin’ money into gettin’ it set up, he sees schoolin’ as an investment, not a burden.”
Adam’s eyes widen and he looked sort’a respectful of what I said. But I’m not done. “Then I said that the right parable they should use is the one where the servant was given them talents to use while his boss was gone. You’re like the guy who doubled what he had. That prodigal son story was about the kid squanderin’ what he’d demanded from his pa, but knowing his pa would take him back, even if as just one of his farm hands. It was about mistakes and forgiveness, and you didn’t make no mistakes and need no forgiveness.”
I see his smile widen even more. “In the right parable, the guy who’d doubled his talents got called good and faithful. That’s what you’ve been. You took what you had to start and multiplied it, probably a hundred times from there. The way I see it is that whatever money Pa used for yer schoolin’ will come back to us in ways we can’t even imagine yet … startin’ with figuring out how to get water to our grasslands.”
I give the team a slap to go faster again, and finish with what my brother needs to know. “Pa would’a been purely wrong if he’d have kept you from doing something amazin’ with that brain God gave you. If he hadn’t sent you out there, you’d a buried all that ability in a saddle bag while pokin’ cattle all yer life, and that wouldn’t have helped a soul.”
“You have an amazing way of explaining things, Hoss,” he says. “Your mama was like that too.”
Adam doesn’t lie, so I know he means what he said. I don’t lie either, so everything I just said was true.
“Where do you see yourself in that parable of the talents,” he asks, getting’ me to thinking.
“I suspect you got the most of them like the first guy. But I surely got some too, and mine are knowing the land and the critters. I use what I got the best I can, just like you.”
“That’s perceptive and exactly true. Maybe the Cartwright version of that parable would have all us getting an equal bag filled with our strong points, and we each make the most of them.”
Another quick look to my side lets me see that Adam’s tight cheeks are gone and he’s breathin’ full. What I told him seems to have helped, but I follow his line’a sight forward. We’ve made it to the sea of green grass ripplin’ like waves in the breeze. It’s easin’ his soul along with my words.
Just About Home (Adam)
When Pa let his anxiety pilot his thoughts earlier, he wasn’t wrong in what he said about my life during our separation. Where he lost his way was in assuming their effects on me. I did study under highly intelligent and respected teachers. The historic, legacy nature of the colleges in Boston will draw the finest from all educational disciplines. When Harvard began offering an applied science degree in engineering, they attracted and hired the finest from the world of practicing engineers to complement the tenured professors from mathematics, physics, chemistry, geology, and even business.
Pa was right in that I loved every minute of my education.
He was also right about me enjoying Boston. I made good friends. Knowing the Wadsworths and doing well in school brought opportunities to meet some of the finest educators, poets, writers and philosophers, politicians, and theologians. I was invited to listen to, and meet the celebrated creative minds of our time.
However, had Pa given me a chance to respond, I would have explained that these were often pompous men, expecting deference for their celebrity, who only gave me the time of day because I was in Frank Wadsworth’s company. My roommate’s father has financial and familial clout. But he is also a staunch proponent of hard effort, who admired the story of the Cartwright family from the first time he heard about us from Professor Metz. Frank would make his way around a group of dignitaries reminding them I was the young man who had come back here after my father took me on a journey west to build his own empire in a part of the country where this was extremely difficult. Their disinterest turned immediately to questions. Some were curious as to whether I was as truly educated well enough to thrive in an Eastern university under such circumstances as Frank had described, while others wanted to hear more about my journey … or more so … about my father, who took on the world as a widower with two young children in tow.
None of these dignitaries had ever set a toe into the unknown. They confessed to wondering about the extreme faith and fortitude shown by those who left comfort and security behind to explore and pioneer. They also freely confessed to happily remaining in their pampered situations, and ended up praising the amazing education I’d received from my father before ever stepping foot into the hallowed halls of Harvard.
There is one more thing Pa got right that has to do with my horizon. It no longer ends as far as the eye can see on the Ponderosa. I want and need to be home now, and held my homesickness at bay all these years knowing I would return to the roots that had stretched and sustained me all the way to the East Coast. But something inside me says my horizon will expand in the future, and the Ponderosa boundaries will need to be crossed once more.
I love engineering and intend to engage in projects for my family while picking up private engineering work over the winters. I loved ranching with Pa before and am anxious to see how it goes with Hoss and Little Joe coming of age. This split life will one day prompt a decision to choose one or the other. But not today … unless Pa’s skewed conclusions remain in place as I arrive home.
As I glance over at my driver, I realize I have been in the perfect company for what happened. No one speaks with more understanding of the human condition and matters of the heart than the tall kid next to me wearing a hat so big he can use it to feed and water his horse. This shy, easy going, easily fooled young man is often disregarded by those who take advantage of his kindness. His ability to see truth is a gift reserved for only the most blessed and beloved of God.
I’m far more at ease than I was, yet knowing we’re near the house now makes every muscle in my body feel bound as tight as a calf tied for branding. Another quick look at Hoss lets me see him smiling at what we’re both seeing: the green grass stretching on for miles. This place will never be mundane for him, and I see his ever-fresh take on my home as a sign that things will go better with Pa this time.
After all, my father is the one who taught me that the greatest joy often comes after the hardest journey.
The Arrival (Hoss)
Adam took a deep breath of the sweet grass a little bit ago, and his shoulders finally relaxed to where he leaned back easy in the seat. I ain’t never seen a person lean onto things and into himself as much as my brother, and this gives me hope that he’s doin’ lots better. Pa always hollered at him to sit and stand up straight, and at me to speak correct grammar. We’d do it, but slipped right back into our ways. Pa finally gave up, letting Adam be Adam, and me be me.
The barn came into view some time ago, but it hides the house from this direction until you pull up into the yard. We’re nearin’ the final turn and I see Pa waiting at the point where Adam will finally get his first good look at what’s ahead.
He’s wearing clean clothes, but even better, he’s wearin’ a big smile along with a fresh shirt. It’s a real grin, not the kind he uses for those he doesn’t care for, but would still welcome to our place.
Adam’s, “Wow!” as we round the corner, was said under his breath, followed by him jumping down before I can stop the team.
“Is it everything you imagined it would be, son?” Pa shouts as Adam stops to take it all in.
“I never imagined it would look this good. You chose the perfect materials, Pa.” After a good look at the house, Adam turns to look at the whole yard, before sayin’, “You enlarged the barn, added corrals, bunk houses, and equipment sheds. How did you manage all this in five years!”
A few work hands who knew Adam from years back are drifting to the yard to welcome him. After their quick hellos, I asked them to help me detach the team and empty the wagon, intendin’ to give Pa and Adam some time alone.
After Pa pointed out a few more things, he wrapped his arm around Adam’s shoulders, walking him towards the front door where Hop Sing has been waiting to give him a head to toe look before allowing them inside.
No one shut the door, so I can hear our cook sayin’ Adam’s too skinny and wonderin’ why no one fed him at school.
I’m thankful Pa seemed free of whatever had been biting at his heart. I gotta give Adam credit too. He ain’t holdin’ anything back like he’s still sore. I can’t hear the words as they get further inside, but I hear laughing, and that rock that’s been sittin’ in my stomach since we left camp, just busted apart.
I haven’t spotted Little Joe yet, but deep inside, I know Adam’s gonna work that out just fine too.
The Arrival (Joe)
I was watching from behind my curtain when Hoss pulled in, but Adam had his hat cocked forward shadowing his face. And when he started looking around, I moved so he wouldn’t see me spying. He’s downstairs with Pa and Hop Sing, and they all seem to be talking at once. I should probably get into bed for when they come to say hello.
***
I shouldn’t have worried. I heard Pa tell Hop Sing he could ask Hoss to help with the picnic, and then two sets of feet started up the steps. Pa slides his foot onto each stair making a shuffling noise, but Adam is nearly silent. At the top, I hear Pa saying how he added a few extra things into the bedrooms that weren’t on Adam’s drawings. As they neared my room, I pulled the covers up over my head and listened even harder to hear Adam talk. I’m convinced that if I do, my memories will come back fine.
I’m tensed like a bear trap and barely breathing as Pa stops outside my door. He tells Adam that I hadn’t felt great when he got back, and since I didn’t come down and my room is quiet, I must still be sleeping, and they’d let me be for a bit yet. That was it. They moved on, picking up again with Pa telling how he assigned the bedrooms. He didn’t even crack the door to see if I was alive.
I’m not sure if I’m mad about that or relieved. What bothers me more is that I can’t hear Adam answering Pa. He hasn’t said a word … at least that I’ve heard. Or maybe it’s ….
I’m suddenly sweating and my heart is beating so fast I can’t breathe. Pulling the covers down, I sit on the edge of the bed nearest the door and strain my neck forward to listen. Nothing! I’m beginning to think Adam has been talking right along and I don’t recognize his voice!
Isn’t that what that Good Shepherd story says – that he knows his flock and his flock knows him. Don’t it follow that I wouldn’t even know his voice if I don’t remember him, cuz then he wouldn’t remember me either. I’m so confused. I want to throw the door open and know the truth, while on the other hand, I want everything to stand still so I don’t ever find out how this ends. I ain’t never felt sicker in my life, while knowing there ain’t really anything wrong with me.
A Better Day (Hoss)
Pa and Adam went through the house and bunk house before stopping in the yard to talk with the ranch hands who are gathering now, expecting we’ll eat soon. Hugh, our foreman, was one of the first men to hire on when Pa started ranching. He’s the one a who took Adam under his wing when he was ready to work the herd, and he missed my brother near as much as Pa and me.
I started tendin’ cattle when I was 15, and Hugh told me stories about Adam nearly every day while teaching me the ropes. Yet he never compared me to him, and always told me what a good job I was doing. A lot of his stories were funny things Adam had done wrong and had to learn the hard way, but more often, he mentioned how much he missed the hard-headed determination that had often gotten Adam into trouble, and how my brother was always willin’ to listen to Hugh’s advice on how to get out of that same trouble.
Hugh’s teasin’ Adam, saying he hopes he’s got a lot more smarts now than he did as a kid. He’s peppering this with the same stories I heard about Adam’s early mishaps, much to the crew’s enjoyment. Adam is laughing and admitting he did everything just as Hugh related. The others are taking their licks too, at least them who knew Adam back then. When they ran out of stories about him, they started tellin’ him stories about my mishaps. Adam’s laugh is ringin’ out loud and clear, letting me know this “foolishment,” as Hop Sing would call it, is a balm on his sore bones and achin’ spirit.
I wouldn’t mind gettin a few words into that storytelllin’ to defend myself, but Hop Sing has asked for a hand bringing out the meal. Since it took us til mid-afternoon to get home, I’m sure the men have been complaining about waiting. Their patience will be rewarded. There’s so much good-lookin’ food, we set boards over saw horses for tables to hold it all. I haven’t eaten since dawn, so my stomach’s complaining bad. When Hop Sing ain’t lookin’, I’ve done some sampling.
Once Hop Sing’s ready to serve, he says to find Adam and have Pa say grace. They moved on from the ranch hands, and since they didn’t walk past me, they must’a moseyed through the barn to see the corrals holding the wild horses we’ve been rounding up. I’m right. Half way through the shadowed building, I can hear Pa talking beyond the opened back door.
Stopping inside, I can still see Pa pointing at a field and tellin’ Adam it’s the one he helped clear and seed just before he left for school, and how it’s fertile ground, just as my brother predicted. That must mean something to the two’a them, makin’ Adam nod.
They don’t hear me, so I stay put. Their talk and posture seems easy now, and while I know it’s wrong to eavesdrop, something is tellin’ me interruptin’ this would be wrong.
Sure enough if that ain’t right!
Pa takes Adam’s arms and turns him so they’re facing each other.
“I don’t know what got into me earlier,” he starts. “All the joy I had over you returning vanished for a moment, replaced by worry that you would realize how simple … routine … ordinary your life was before, and will be again. That led to believing you would soon resent being home, even knowing you’d never once rethought your promise to return. Please forgive the fears and the doubts I placed on your shoulders with those ugly words.”
I see Adam smile and grab Pa’s arms too. “I was confused … hurt … even staggered for a while. But with the Ponderosa Prophet driving me home, we came to a similar conclusion.” He looks down. “It’s not like I didn’t worry about stepping off that coach too. Life kept moving on both coasts while I was away, making me fear my place in this family might no longer exist. I told myself that would never happen, and then after what you said, I wondered if I’d been right. I’m guessing the devil had a good time infecting a happy time with worry and doubt.”
“I didn’t think you could get smarter than you were,” Pa teased before gettin’ serious again. “That infection you mentioned, covered me in cloud of worry, false judgments, and self-doubt that burst wide open this morning. It felt like I was about to take a test I hadn’t studied for, and would fail miserably.”
Adam nodded, taking a minute before answerin’, “Abel pointed out thing about me that reminded him of my mother, like her smile, her dimples, and her good heart. She also loved learning like I do, and was happiest curled up, reading.” He stopped to chuckled softly. “Grandfather claims I got my tendency to wink from him, but my leaning on everything must come from the Cartwright side.”
“That might be your own personal trait,” Pa said with a laugh. “I don’t recall any back or hip issues when you were little, but perhaps you possessed a limber spine, and simply couldn’t stay upright.”
A blush colors Adam’s face and ears, before talking again. “Grandfather said my singular drive, loyalty, and work ethic comes from you. He saw this in you from the first day you signed on under his command. It’s always been apparent to me too. You attack every problem and never tolerate pity, especially from yourself. You accepted setbacks, disappointments, and overwhelming grief as part of life and took the best from the worst. That has continued with you doing more while I was away than anyone could imagine. And those smart people I met in Boston were no smarter than you. Those amazing preachers in the pulpits of the church I attended, left me wishing for your understandable Sunday lessons. I saw highly educated theologians speak the Word of God fluently, and then act pompously towards others, whereas you always showed your faith in how you lived.”
Pa’s shoulders square up as he thanks my brother for sayin’ all that, but Adam ain’t done.
“I did study under scholars, but I couldn’t have succeeded without what I learned here … from you. You taught me to stick with what I want to accomplish. You taught me to be kind, to treat others well, and to never let others make me feel like I didn’t belong. And somewhere in the chores and babysitting and thousands of things we did to keep this dream going, I learned how to study and lend a hand to those who struggled. There were those who said my simple upbringing couldn’t possibly qualify me for the opportunity I was given. What they couldn’t understand is how hard a ‘simple’ life can be or how the lessons learned amid it made me thrive in the toughest situations.”
Pa’s grip on my brother gets tighter while they sort’a stare at each other.
“Hoss reminded me of a few things I needed to hear as well. You do know how exceptionally smart that kid is?”
Pa nods. “He doesn’t see it, but yes, I see his intelligence in everything except with Little Joe.” They both laugh. “I don’t suppose you can tell me what he said.”
“I’ll tell you later when he’s around, but the gist is that we’ve all done the best we could over these years. We’ve all changed, and that’s not a bad thing. But worrying about those changes put a lot of pressure on this day.”
“How about we put the worry aside?” Pa suggests.
“I’d like that. You’ve always said each day has worry of its own. Today’s are over, so let’s celebrate.”
It was nice hearin’ Adam tell Pa that I helped, but I still stay put. And finally, Pa pulls Adam in a hug, and while pattin’ his back, I hear him say, “I have longed for this day, son, and have the calendars to prove it. Welcome home.”
Adam stiffened at first, but finally squeezes back. All I hear him say, is, “Oh, Pa.” It’s what he’d always say when the cares of the world got his heart so heavy, he lost his words.
It fills me up to know Pa and Adam will do better now. Adam was right about them buttin’ heads. They was already doin’ that five years ago. With Adam bein’ older, smarter, and even more sure of what he knows, he’ll push Pa harder while Pa pushes back just as hard, because he’s Pa. They’ll both learn how to bend, or they’ll come to a breaking point again real soon. But like Adam said. That’s a worry for tomorrow.
It’s time to get them moving before I starve. “How’s it going?” I call while waking out of the barn like I just got here.
They look at each other and start to laugh, with Pa callin’ back’, “Adam’s trip home had a few bumps, potholes, and unpleasant odors, but he made it.”
Unfinished business (Little Joe)
They forgot about me! I went back to the window when I heard Pa hollering for everyone to gather around, and then spoke a blessing on the food. I know they forgot me because he started out saying, “Now that the food is ready and everyone’s here, we should get this party started!” With the prayer done, Hop Sing hollered too, saying, “You eat before hot stuff get cold and cold stuff get warm and Hop Sing toss it all in garbage.”
Well, not everyone was there, but no one noticed or cared that I’m missing. That’s fine. Who wants to be out there anyway.
Except that I do.
I’ve been feeling awful about forgetting Adam. But in the half-hour he’s been home, he’s made everyone forget about me. I kind of understand. I took some jobs Adam had done when I could handle them, but Saint Adam, as Hoss once called him when he was hopping mad, was good at everything. And being lots older than me, he did lots more than I could. The ranch hands are excited to have him back.
Maybe the good part about no one remembering me, is that I can watch what’s happening without hiding.
Pa’s pushing the men to get food, and Hoss is already gnawing on a chicken leg while leaning against the corral fence. I don’t see Adam or his hat among the group though. Maybe I can’t see him either now. I read a mystery story about a guy who was only visible to those who really knew him. That could explain everything!
Dang! I was concentrating so hard, I missed that someone came inside and they’re coming up the stairs. The footsteps stopped outside my door and I see the doorknob turning. All I can do is turn back to the window and stare out.
“You are up!” a voice says as someone steps into the room. “I came to see if you’re feeling well enough to join us.” When I don’t answer, he says, “Or … I can bring a couple plates up, and we can eat together in here.”
Keeping my eyes shut, I let the voice find its way into my head. It’s pitched lower, but thankfully, it’s still familiar.
“Are you feeling better?” the voice asks. “If so, having you join the party would make it perfect.”
“I doubt that,” I say to myself, too quiet to be heard.
Pa always said Adam had bat ears and that’s why he could hear every bad thing Hoss and I ever said behind his back. That must still be true. “I’m sorry you feel that way,” he answers to my whispered thought.
I got good ears, or at least good enough that I hear him step further into the room. Just because I recognize his voice doesn’t mean everything is fine.
“Stay where you are, Adam!” This time my voice is loud enough to rattle the window in front of me. I don’t want him to go away; I just don’t want him coming closer. What I want is for him to talk more from where he is so I can try to picture him. I’m afraid if I look now, I’ll hear that voice, but it will still be coming out of a stranger.
“I’ll stay right here,” he promises. “But if you’re better, you might as well eat. Pa’s beginning to worry that you’re sicker than he thought.” He gives me a chance to say something, but what can I say! So he keeps talking. “If you’re sick about me being home more than truly ailing, I won’t be upset,” he promises. “I’ve been gone a long time, Joe. You were so young when I left, I’d bet anything you’re having trouble even remembering what it was like having me around. I wont’ rush you, and I’ll stay away until you tell me you’re ready.”
“I remember some things just fine!” I tell him without looking back. “Like you think you’re always right about what I’m thinking.” The stupid thing about what I just said, is that he’s right.
Dang it, I can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “I may not always be right, but there’s a good chance I’ve got this right. Should I tell Pa you’ll be down soon? You should have no trouble remembering that Pa is not a patient man. His concern will turn to irritation if you’re well enough to come down and don’t do so. I promise to keep my distance, and perhaps we can talk later.”
“Fine. I’ll come down after I get dressed. Are you happy now?”
“Yes! Hop Sing has outdone himself with this meal. I see lots of dishes I like on the tables. But I see food I recall you and Hoss liking special too. I’d guess that’s Hop Sing’s way of showing us he’s exited to have us together again.”
He’s right again, and I sort of grunt. Hop Sing told me the same thing the other day. Count on Adam to figure it out. I’m remembering more now, but not anything good. Mostly it’s how bossy he was and how he probably thinks he can start telling me what to do like before.
I hear Adam’s boots turn on the wood floor and start to leave, but he stops. I want him to go, yet want him to stay and talk more. My head is hurting along with my chest as I try not to cry over this mess.
I didn’t expect him to say anything, but his voice is soft and kind like I remember from when I was having bad dreams after Mama died.
“You were the person I thought of and worried about most while I was gone, Joe,” He starts. “I knew you’d change so much, and it broke my heart that I was missing it. I’d meet kids in Boston who were close to your age, and imagined how you might compare to their size and interests. See, Joe, the day you were born, you grabbed onto my finger so tight, I promised to watch over you as long as I could . It was the vow I felt saddest about deferring to attend school. I know you won’t ever need me as much as you did back then, but that doesn’t matter. I want to know the kid you are now, while maybe recalling some of the fun things we did in the past. Please give me this chance … when you’re ready.”
My eyes are burning as I blink to keep them from leaking. He didn’t forget me after all, so why did I forget him. I’m frozen by the window now, waiting for him to get back outside so I can see him and figure out how bad this is.
***
Why is it that now I’m ready to look at him, something keeps it from happening. I heard Adam reach the bottom of the steps and finally close the door behind him. I saw the top of his hat go into the yard, and he’s with a group of our guys now, with his back to me.
I want to holler and make him look up here. But when I try, no sound comes out.
He might be taller, but it’s hard to tell because I still can’t remember what he looked like before.
One thing I do notice is that Adam’s hair reaches his collar. Pa won’t let that stand. He’s always kept our hair clipped shorter than most farm kids. Hoss thinks it’s cuz Pa had to have short hair as an officer on Grandpa Stoddard’s ship. But I think he liked that it was easier to wash come bath day and didn’t tangle up in between.
I’m happy to have remembered something, and wonder how surprised he’s gonna be that we got a barber now. Mr. Danskin came through on his way west, and stayed when he found out there was no one barbering in town. He farms, but cuts hair in a corner of the saloon on Saturday afternoon.
Adam’s back stays toward me as he finds Pa, so I use the bat ears I got, trying to hear what he’s talking about. Pa asks how things went with me.
“Not good,” he says. “You’re right about him not being ill. It’s more that he’s guarded or maybe afraid. He ‘talked’ to me, if answering questions is considered talking. But he wouldn’t look at me.”
“This has been going on long enough,” Pa says, using the voice I recognize as meaning he’s ready to explain things to me in a whatever way necessary to fix this.
“Please don’t do that,” Adams says clear as the dinner bell Hop Sing rings when we’re not in the house by the time he’s ready. “He agreed to come down once he’s dressed. A little more patience will let him work out the rest. If I recall correctly, forcing Little Joe does not go well.”
Adam laughed at his own comment. It was familiar, making my heart start to beat faster. I didn’t understand what he said next, but it was something about how they might understand what’s it like to have misgivings about him getting home.
I gotta get moving. Pa’s patience won’t last much longer no matter what Adam told him. With Pa, obedience is expected, and facing our troubles is the only way to get past them. I just wish Adam would turn around so I’d see his face. Maybe if I wish really hard ….
After closing my eyes and scrunching up my face in what I think making a wish looks like, I open them to see Adam filling his plate, still facing away. I laugh despite my troubles, because everyone will see right off if I “don’t know my brother from Adam!” Ain’t that just the truth!
With the wish failed, I look upwards and fold my hands, “Please help me, God! Pa says I can ask you anything, so I’m asking now. Please ….”
I don’t know what to ask.
When I tried telling Pa about forgetting Adam earlier, he said that couldn’t be true. But it is! I remembered mama for a while after she died. Then one day, I stopped being able to see her in my mind. Pa’s got her picture framed downstairs, but sometimes I just see a pretty lady and have to remind myself that she was Mama. She’s been gone the same amount of time as Adam. So why would I remember him any better than her!
Still, his voice is familiar, just like when Mama’s voice talks to me in a dream. Her golden hair and a special smile sort of comes along with that, but only her voice makes me certain it’s her. Does everyone forget the faces of people they love who die, or does it just happen to kids because it hurts so bad they have to let them go or their hearts would explode with the pain?
All I know is that my head hurts for real and I want to lay down. Pa’ll storm up at some point, but he’ll see that I am sick. There’s no cure for this, and now I feel paralyzed. I want to move, but my legs don’t work anymore, so I settle my arms on the window sill and lay my head down.
The more I try to listen to conversations outside, the less I hear, until I only hear myself breathing inside my head.
“Stick your head out the window and call your brother.”
“What?” I croak out after looking around the room to see who spoke. It was a woman’s voice, but there’s no woman in my room, and I haven’t seen a woman at the house today. Hop Sing sometimes hires Mrs. Andrews to help him with parties, but I didn’t see her come either.
I hear the voice again. It’s not in the room; it’s in my head. “Trust me Little Joe. Open the window and call Adam’s name.” It’s Mama. I just fell asleep and I’m dreaming.
But I’m not asleep! A look out the window proves everything’s the same as it was a minute ago. The hands are milling around while Pa, Adam, and Hoss are balancing their plates on the corral fence to eat and talk. And sure enough, Adam’s facing the barn.
I hear Mama tell me again to be brave, and this time, I see her in my mind. She’s there! She’s looking at me and I feel her hand on my cheek, saying it’s all right to forget a few things. It doesn’t mean I stopped loving her or Adam. I only put them in a special place for safekeeping so I wouldn’t be so sad.
The window sticks, but I push until it gives enough to lean out a little. “Hey Adam!” I shout as loud as I can.
It quiets fast down there, with Pa turning my brother around, pointing towards my window.
My head and heart feel about ready to explode. He takes his hat off, looks up, and smiles. Pa has taught us all how to do what he called a “social smile’ at time we might not want to, like when an older lady pinches my cheek and says I’m cute as a bug.
This isn’t that kind! It’s the real thing; the kind I remember Adam having when he was really happy. Seeing it, memories start flooding back. He looks older … different … and even more sure of himself than when he left, which is amazing, since he was already pretty darned sure back then.
I remember us riding together on that big horse he used, and him rescuing me from the creek when I fell in chasing a frog, and then giving me his shirt to stay warm on the way home while he shivered so hard he couldn’t talk. He’s next to me on the bed when I had bad dreams. I feel him rubbing my back and singing soft. And I remember the only time I ever heard him cry so hard he sobbed, was the day he found his mama’s Bible soaked, and ruined after I forgot it outside and it rained overnight. I thought he’d hate me forever. Instead, he said it was a special book, but I was even more special to him. And the last thing passing through my brain is his high, squeaky scream of pain the time I used a board to swat a bee off his head.5
He’s not the same Adam from then, cuz he’s five-years older just like me. But I know it’s him just from his smile!
He finally hollers, “Hey Joe. You dressed yet?”
“Almost.”
As I pull my head back inside, I notice Adam handing his plate to Pa and start trotting towards the house. By the time I slip into my pants and boots and make it to the stairs, he’s waiting at the bottom. I tear down the first section and jump at him from the landing, knowing he’ll catch me. I used to jump at him from the fence rails and the loft ladder, but I forgot that I’m a lot bigger than I used to be, and he holds onto me while stumbling backwards until losing his balance. We’re both laughing as I hang on tight and he grunts, “Ouch!” as his backside hits the floor.
My laughing has turned to crying, but I can’t help it. Adam’s home. He’s real and even smells like Hop Sing’s soap, just like before he left. He grabs me tighter as he manages to roll to his knees and stand up without letting go.
“I missed you too, Joe,” he says when no words can find their way out of my mouth. “I knew you were changing so much, there were times I worried I wouldn’t recognize you when I saw you again. You are different, but I could have picked you out in a crowd of kids all the same age and size, wearing the same clothes, because what I forgot was that I know you from the inside out.” He laughs a little as he tips my chin up to look straight at me. “Maybe our hearts see better than our eyes.”
All I can do is nod. What Adam said is true. I figured I’d know him by his voice, and the rest would follow. Funny how we can know the truth and convince ourselves it’s not true.
Adam goes right back to being the brother he was before he left, setting me on the floor and grabbing his hanky to mops my cheeks dry. “There … that’s better,” he says. “No one needs to know how much you really missed me. It could ruin your reputation as a tough guy.”
A smile passes between us. “You ready to get some lunch?” he asks as he wraps his arm around my shoulder and nudges me towards the door.
I finally manage, “That thing you said about being afraid you wouldn’t know me. Maybe I was feeling that some too. I’m glad you’re home.” The words are coming easier, even the teasing is back. “Pa really looked forward to this day. He kept saying I could torment you then instead of him.”
His grip around me tightens. “I’d expect nothing less.”
Taking Root (Adam)
This house is amazing! Pa made the scratchy drawings I left behind come alive. And this bed! After sleeping on the dorm’s hard, lumpy pallets, and most recently, trying to sleep upright a moving stage, this long, comfortable mattress Pa had made for me is like resting on a cloud. I might get a little too comfortable and retire from driving cattle at the ripe old age of 23.
After that crazy stage ride left me physically spent, along with the odd interactions with Pa earlier poking at my emotions and feelings of security, you’d think I would be sleeping soundly by this time. Even with the house quiet and Hoss’ rhythmic snore penetrating the solid wall between us, I’m still awake. My body is relaxed, but I’m still considering the day.
Pa’s reaction this morning left a bruise, but I “intend” to let it heal until there’s no evidence of it ever being there. Even so, one thing may not ease as quickly. It planted a seed of worry whether Pa’s concerns will show up again as we begin working together and we again face how different we are now.
You’d think Joe’s refusal to look at me would have left a bruise too, but it didn’t. Joe couldn’t put words to his distress, but I’m sure he was confused and wounded by my absence. My confession to him about this being my main worry in leaving, was true. Yet, there’d been only two options: go with Professor Metz when he was ready, or stay home. It was then or never. I needed his help to keep my study going over the months of travel, and to walk me through the processes of securing a college placement.
When Joe refused to look at me, I believed it was going to take some time before he’d trust me again. But something happened after I left his room, letting him find the strength to face me. I doubt he’ll tell me what that was, but I am left thankful, even if curious. There’s no doubt that he’ll torment me just as he promised. My response of looking forward to it could change quickly!
Pa and I will test our peace, probably starting tomorrow at breakfast. I appreciate all he’s done, yet I am aware of new ideas and products that were developed back East and are slowly making their way here. In many instances, they will make Pa’s “innovations” obsolete. Will he listen with an open mind, or dig his heals in, saying there’s nothing wrong with his methods, and I shouldn’t let my education get in the way of practicality. It should prove … interesting.
There’s a final thought that makes me smile. Thankfulness for Hoss’ steadiness. He has wisdom at his age most will never possess, along with a willingness to consider both sides of anything. He’ll tell me if I’m being a pest with my suggestions. But he’ll encourage and support me if he thinks I have a good idea, even to his own peril with Pa.
And Joe …. His strong grip around me after he faced his fear, showed growing strength in all parts of his life.
Should this ranch become the long-term empire people claim it will, each of our fingerprints will be clearly seen.
For now, I’ll rest gratefully in this fantastic bed. Tomorrow, I’ll see how things fit, starting with the work clothes from five years ago I found neatly folded in my dresser drawers, and then in adjusting to being one of four Cartwrights again.
The End
Notes
1 Eagle Station was a ranch with a trading post and settlement nearby in 1851 that began to thrive as folks began heading to California for the Gold Rush. As opposed to what became Virginia City, this settlement was along a road leading more directly to mountain passes in the Sierras on the south side of Lake Tahoe. It would become Carson City and be named the state capital in 1858. I’d placed a lone telegraph connection there in a previous story. It’s a little early for that, but we tend to forget that the West between the Pacific Coasts and a few states west of the Mississippi didn’t really get fully going until the second half of the 19th century when it became prudent to connect the coasts with communication and transportation.
2 Adam’s method of getting home is accurate, but not exact. The Overland mail service started in 1858, but the details about the formative initiatives are sketchy. I am using general practices and procedures that would have led to establishing such service. At one time I had found a site that noted the use of travelers on these initial trials to establish whether they could link mail transport to passenger service. However, I can’t bring this up in my search this time.
*Shine is the name I gave the horse Adam used when he first rode herd. Hoss had given the horse this name because it had very glossy hooves, making the little boy say it looked like he’d gotten a shoe shine.
** John 10
3 From my story Hunting For Memories where Ben and Adam are forced to spend the night at a cabin in the mountains shortly after his return from school that had been their first home on the Ponderosa. Ben has been reticent about going back there with this son for fear of bringing up memories of an incident when he’d accused Adam of doing something only to find out later that he was not only innocent, but had sustained injuries that he’d kept from his angry father.
4 From my story Discernment (Lessons Taugh – Lessons Learned)
5These are all things that happened between Adam and Joe in my prequels.
Great Thanks to BHT for allowing me to use her stagecoach image for this story.
Tags: loving family moments, misunderstanding, POV structure
I think the reason you couldn’t find out about the Overland stage is because it was actually the Butterfield Overland Mail (thank you AI!). You are absolutely right that the stage carried both mail and passengers. It started in 1858 and ended in 1861 — not very long-lived because of the Civil War. (Just a little history lesson for the masses. I looked it up so I could learn something new. 😉) Thanks for another delightful story, Judy. You captured personalities and emotions very nicely.
Thanks for the information on Butterfield, Bonnie! I’ve seen that name before, but couldn’t find the connection. I like trying to follow a trail back on something I don’t know too. Glad you liked the story and characters and thanks for leaving your comments. Always a nice surprise.
Je viens de lire votre histoire avec énormément d’enthousiasme. Elle révèle comment chacun peut avoir des émotions et des pensées divergentes selon les caractères de chacun et comment des souvenirs peuvent ressurgir en retrouvant quelqu’un que l’on n’avait pas vu depuis des années. Merci beaucoup pour histoire. C’est magnifique.
Thank you so much, Christiane! I appreciate your thoughts, as I also appreciate the creative ways that you portray the Cartwrights in your pictures. Those of us who loved the show allow it to live on!
That’s a great story, really enjoyed reading it. You got into the heads of all the Cartwrights, After Adam being away for so long , they would be wondering how he has changed, and he also must have wondered what changes he would find.
Thank you so much, Chris! It is amazing how fast and much things change. I think about not seeing our grandkids for a month and noticing how much they’ve grown in a short period, who they resemble or what they enjoy have changed. Five-plus years would have been astounding! Thank you again!
This is a very great story. So many different emotions. Hoss should have been a mind doctor. He figures out how everybody thinks about Adam’s Home coming. You got all the four mens thoughts down to the tee. With all the years between Adam and Joe they still think the same thoughts. The great interaction Between Adam and Joe in the end was precious. Thanks
Wow, what an emotional Homecoming for Adam and the family. You did so well to get into their heads (literally) and show us all their worries, fears, and joys – all natural and perhaps some best not spoken (as a couple of them learned). I loved how each one eventually reconnected with Adam, and he with his Home. Great family moments. I also love it when you tie into your other stories – which brings back some other memories for the characters and me as a reader. I think I could relate to Joe’s situation the best as my brother who is 10-1/2 years older than me entered college in Colorado when my family moved to North Carolina from Colorado. I was so nervous when he came for a summer visit but all turned out well and still is after all these years. Thank you for writing this wonderful story and sharing it with us.
Thank you so much, AC! I loved all your thoughts, and thanks for telling me about your brother. It seems a perfect connection to what was going on with Joe. I absolutely love when something in a story hits home for a reader. My brother was only 4 years older, and my experience was that while we got along fine, he decided to enlist rather than be drafted during the Vietnam era. While it proved a good choice, I realized he held some resentment (because he “thought” I was the favored sibling) that he voiced in a snarky exchange just before leaving. One sentence colored my thoughts of him for years! Those moments can even leave wounds, as Adam says (Hmmm, wonder where he got that from – like maybe a wounded author) . Thank you again for always giving wonderful thoughts on stories. Your encouragement to readers is a blessing.
Oh my goodness, this story is remarkable! You delved deeply into their characters and brought their thoughts and feelings out to show us.
It is remarkable that you writers can do that with people that aren’t really real. David Dortort and the cast created great characters that people still want to explore.
Thanks for this story!
Thanks for your thoughts, Becky. They were so encouraging. The characters were great, and the actors brought them to life. I could write an entire story just about one of their facial expressions that were so revealing. You forgot they weren’t the Cartwrights because they truly became the Cartwrights. It’s always great to explore more deeply. Thanks again for the sweet comment.
I liked this very much. I felt that the four characters were true to the series and the story well written and also heartwarming.
Thank you, Janet. I’m so glad you think the characters remain true to who they were in the canon episodes. Years between prequels and the regular series would definitely put new things in play for the characters we met in Bonanza, so it is always interesting to create stories to show how these men became who they were. Thank you again.
Another fantastic prequel story! The emotions and thoughts were spot on and I loved the different POVs. No homecoming is without it’s bumps…especially those that are 5 years in the making. It’ll take some time for everyone to ‘get to know’ one another again.
Thank you again! Your comment was so appreciated and came at the exact right moment. So glad you enjoyed the story.
Wonderful story relating to Adam’s home coming and the effects on each of his family members.
Thank you for the lovely comment, cactuskate. Always a good day to find that someone enjoyed a story I’ve posted. It is an amazing blessing. Thank you, again.
Thank you for a wonderfully told well resear he’d story!
Thank You Wisprairie. I appreciate your thoughts so much. Looking back to find what would and would not have been available in the mid 1800s is always so interesting.
Thank you! Your comment made my day, and a lot more than that. I’m so glad you were able to see the love and relationships that went into making the Cartwrights who they were when they became known to us. I am truly grateful and blessed to receive your thoughts.
Wouw what a great story. Love the different points of vieuws. This was writen with so much love for the cartwrights. Thank you for this one. I will read it for sure over and over again.