Summary:  This is a compilation of five vignettes that take place on Ben Cartwright’s trip West.
Rating: K+ Words: 2274

Conversations on the Trail 

 

~ONE~ 

 

“Pa?” 

 

“Adam, what are you doing up, son?” 

 

“I woked up, and ya wasn’t there.” 

 

“Well, I’m here now.”  Ben Cartwright had walked back to the wagon at the sound of his nearly five-year-old’s voice. He reached out and scooped the boy into his arms.  The late spring night was mild, and the light of the full moon gentle.  Adam settled his head on his father’s shoulder. “I’m thirsty, Pa. Can I have a drink?” 

 

“Of course.” He settled the youngster on one hip and carried him over to the water barrel.  Lifting the lid and setting it aside, he filled the tin dipper and then brought it to the child’s lips.  Adam drank it all down and then sighed. 

 

“That was good, Pa.” 

 

“Well, you were thirsty, weren’t you?” 

 

“Yeah, my throat’s been kind of scratchy.” The soft, little voice was nearly lost in Ben’s shoulder. 

 

Ben replaced the dipper and the lid.  Then he bit his lip and brought his free hand to Adam’s forehead.  “Are you feeling sick, Adam?” Ben inquired worriedly. 

 

“No, Pa.  I was just thirsty.” 

 

“Well, then it’s back to bed with you.” 

 

The little boy shook his head. “Please, Pa, I ain’t sleepy now.  Why was ya sitting out here?” 

 

“Sometimes a man has thinking to do, son.  When I was at sea, I learned that you can do a lot of thinking looking at the stars.” 

 

“Did ya like being a sailor, Pa?” 

 

“Yes, I did enjoy my time at sea.” 

 

“On Grandfather’s ship?” 

 

“Yes.” 

 

“Grandfather was a sailor; you was a sailor; will I be a sailor when I’m big?” 

 

“If you want, Adam, you may be a sailor, but when we have our own place, you might not want to sail away from it.” 

 

“If you liked it, Pa, why did ya stop?”  Ben had sat down leaning against the wagon with Adam in his lap.  The boy maneuvered himself, so he could look into his father’s face. 

 

“There was something I more than liked, something I loved.” Ben’s voice deepened with emotion. 

 

“What?” 

 

“Why your mother, Adam! I loved her too much to sail away from her.” 

 

“Wouldn’t Grandfather let you bring her with you?” 

 

A faint smile flickered on Ben’s lips.  “You don’t take wives sailing, son.”  It was stated as an irrevocable rule. 

 

“Oh.”  It was a soft exhalation of acceptance.  “Can you take a pa sailing?” 

 

“I never met a sailor who had his pa with him.” 

 

“Oh.” There was an underlying exasperation in the word. 

 

“I don’t think I’ll go sailing, Pa.” It was stated as a weighty decision achieved after thorough deliberation. 

 

“No?  Well, that’s fine, son, but right now you will be going back to your bed.” 

 

“No, Pa, I don’t wanna go back to bed.”  The lower lip slipped out to punctuate the statement. 

 

Ben’s tone grew stern.  “What did you say to me, Adam?” 

 

“Sorry, Pa.  I didn’t mean to say no.”  Then ever so softly, “You mad I said it, Pa?” 

 

“No, I’m not mad, but there best not be another time.” 

 

“There won’t, Pa.  I, I don’t want a spanking.” 

 

“Then give your pa a hug and kiss and crawl back into bed.”  Ben instructed, planting a light kiss on the top of his son’s head. 

 

Adam decided complete obedience was the best course.  When Ben pulled the covers around him, he ventured, “You didn’t leave my mama ’caused ya loved her?” 

 

“That’s right, Adam.” 

 

“Then you won’t ever leave me.”  Adam rolled on his side and snuggled deeper into the covers. 

 

“Never, little one, never.” 

 

~TWO~ 

 

“Can I help you?”  She watched the little boy shake his head. 

“Most of the candy is three for a penny.”  Another shake of the head gave reply. 

“We could ask your pa.”  

“No. No.”  The head shaking increased in vigor.  “I don’t need any.” 

Can’t afford any’s more the truth, but most his age would at least ask. “Well then, I’ll see if your pa has decided on the last of those supplies.” 

“Sir, is there anything else you want?” 

“No, nothing else.”  

“I’ll get the rest of this together then.  Umm, candy is mostly three for a penny.” 

Ben Cartwright glanced toward Adam, shook his head, and sighed. 

 

~THREE~ 

 

The treeless landscape offered no shade from the noonday sun.   The only respite from its rays was the long rectangular patch cast by each wagon, so the travelers sat lined up from wheel to wheel to eat their lunch. 

 

Ben Cartwright turned his head and looked across the baby lying on a folded quilt to gaze at his elder son.  “Eat up, Adam,” he admonished when he saw that the food on the boy’s plate had not diminished. 

 

“I ain’t hungry, Pa.  It’s awful hot.” 

 

“Still, you must eat, son.  Drink some of your water first.” 

 

Obediently, the boy picked up his cup and took a swallow.  “Water’s hot too,” he murmured as he lowered the cup from his lips.  He then slid eyes toward his father and sighed.  “It’d be a good day to go swimming, wouldn’t it, Pa?” 

 

 “If there was suitable water nearby, swimming would indeed be a temptation,” Ben replied as he continued to eat more out of need than desire. 

 

“Think we might camp near some water tonight?”  Yearning was evident in Adam’s voice.  

 

“From what the scout says, I don’t think we will, son.” 

 

“Oh.”  The syllable carried the message that Adam realized there would be not only no swimming but also no fresh, cool water at the end of the day. 

 

“Eat now,” Ben Cartwright ordered firmly but gently. 

 

Adam picked up the cold biscuit and dutifully took a bite.  He chewed slowly and then swallowed another mouthful of tepid water to wash it down.   His gaze turned to his little brother, and he watched Hoss squirm.  “Hoss is hot too; maybe we could take his gown off.”  He looked up at his father and waited for an answer. 

 

“I suppose we could for a bit.”  Ben set down his plate and picked up his baby. 

 

Adam watched his father undo the buttons on the baby’s gown and ventured, “Maybe I could take off my shirt.” 

 

Ben slipped the cotton gown off Hoss and then shifted his gaze to Adam.   The boy’s sleeves were already rolled up as far as they would go, yet patches of perspiration made the cloth cling and sweat dotted the child’s face and arms.   “For a bit,” Ben relented, “but you must stay out of the sun.  I don’t want your skin burning.” 

 

“Thanks, Pa!”  Adam stripped off his shirt in seconds.  “Are you gonna. . .” 

 

“No, son.  There are far too many women folk about for that to be proper.” 

 

Adam’s eyes dropped.  “I forgot about the ladies, Pa.” 

 

“As you have just reached the age of seven, I don’t think that need be of great concern.”  The corners of Ben’s lips turned up slightly, and he reached out to tousle his child’s sweat-dampened curls.  For a moment he chewed on his lower lip.  Then he stood.  “There’s not enough water to give the two of you a good dousing, but I think a little wipe down could be allowed.”  Soaking a cloth in the water barrel, he kneeled first beside the baby and wiped his bare skin.  As evaporation brought cooling, Hoss cooed in pleasure.  Ben then whipped the cloth through the air and drew Adam to him with his other hand.  Running the cloth over the boy’s face, chest, back, and arms, he saw Adam’s dimples appear.   

 

“Thanks, Pa.  That sure feels good.” 

 

“Then I expect that lunch to be finished in short order, young man.”  Ben’s smile softened his words, and Adam quickly set to eating.  Ben whipped the cloth once more through the air and then held it to his own face. 

 

“When we get our place, there’ll be lots of cool water there, won’t there be, Pa?” 

 

“Most certainly there will be lots of cool water there, son,” Ben assured. 

 

“Good” was Adam’s simple reply, and for a moment both of them saw the shimmer of water beneath the noonday sun.  

 

~FOUR~  

 

“I don’t like it much in here, Pa.” The soft voice of his seven-year-old reached Ben Cartwright’s ear. 

 

“It’s just for tonight, son.” 

 

“Hoss don’t like it none either, Pa.” The child’s voice had taken on a somewhat plaintive whine.  Ben looked down at the one-year-old sitting in Adam’s lap.  Hoss’s usually sunny smile was missing, but then that was most certainly because the little boy was ready for his dinner.    

 

Ben sighed.  The cave was a single hollow in the mountainside.  Dark and rather dank with slick spots on the walls, it was less than inviting.  The sharp smell that seemed to claw its way into the nostrils was irritating, but hopefully their fire would burn some of the odor away. 

 

“Can’t we just camp out by that stream, Pa.  It’s nicer there.”   

 

“No, Adam, we cannot.”  The tone was stern enough to warn his son that enough had been said on this subject.  The boy ducked his head letting his dark hair fall forward, and his lower lip slipped into a pout. 

 

Ben sighed again and turned to look out of the small opening that was the cave’s entrance.  He did not want to frighten Adam with his reason for bedding down beneath ground.  His years at sea had taught Ben to read the weather in the feel of the air and the look of the sky.  He knew that a storm was headed their way and wanted more than a canvas protecting his sons from the fury he knew it would hold.  Adam still had a child’s fear of storms- though he tried mightily to hide it from his father- and Ben hoped that sleep and the granite around them might spare his son some of that fear. 

 

“Watch your brother while I get us some wood and water,” Ben ordered picking up a bucket and heading for the opening. 

 

The little boy did not answer.  His silent protest resulted in a sharp, “Adam!” 

 

“Yes, Pa,” came the soft reply, “Hoss and I could go out and get the kindling.” 

 

“You just keep yourself and your brother inside.”  Ben punctuated his order with an uncompromising glare and then strode out of the cave. 

 

Adam tightened his hold on his baby brother.  “Pa will be back quick, Hoss, and then we’ll have a fire and dinner.”  Hoss sensed the nervousness in his older brother, turned, and burrowed his head into his brother’s chest.  Adam patted his back gently and fixed his eyes on the entrance to the cave. 

 

Ben filled both buckets with fresh water and placed them inside.  Then he collected a large pile of firewood. Next, he led the stock into the cave and tethered them to one side.  Finally, he secured the wagon in front of the cave’s entrance.  Preparations made, he turned to the task of starting a fire and fixing a meal. 

 

Adam had tensed as he watched the pile of firewood grow.  He had held his breath when his father brought the animals into the cave.  He let it out slowly and watched as the flames started to flicker in the fire pit. 

 

“Pa, are you thinking it’s gonna storm?” he asked hesitantly. 

 

Ben turned to face his sons.  Hoss was wide-eyed in Adam’s lap firmly anchored by his brother’s tight hug.  Adam’s eyes were large and solemn as he awaited his father’s answer. 

 

“It may storm some, Son, but we’ll be snug as a bug in a rug as soon as this fire gets going strong.  Don’t you worry none.” 

 

“I ain’t worried.”  Ben heard his son lie bravely and turned back to his tasks.  He had the boys fed, in nightshirts, and bedded down by the fire before the storm broke. 

 

Ben tended the fire and asked himself for the millionth time if he had the right to drag his sons across the wilderness in search of a dream.  Suddenly he realized Adam’s dark eyes were open and fixed on him.  Just then lightning struck very close by, and its thunder echoed against the granite walls.  The animals voiced their fright, and Ben jumped up to calm them.  Returning to the fire, he went down on his heels beside his sons’ pallet.  He rested his hand on Adam’s back and felt the trembling.  Scooping Adam into his arms, he held him close and rubbed his back. 

 

“I ain’t afraid, Pa.” The words were muttered softly into Ben’s shirt. 

 

Ben leaned his head down and whispered into Adam’s ear, “It’s okay if you are, Adam.  Just know that God and I both have you in our arms.” 

 

He felt his son relax against him.   

 

“Can you tell me a story, Pa?  When you’re talking, I don’t hear the thunder so much.” 

 

Ben deep voice rumbled through the night until the storm abated, and Adam was asleep in his arms. 

 

~FIVE~ 

 

“Adam!” 

He turned.  Pa was standing arms crossed and glaring. 

“I didn’t mean to.  Really, I didn’t.” 

“How did it happen?” 

“We were playing and …”  His voice trailed away. 

“What should you have been doing? 

“Gathering the chips.”  Adam’s nose wrinkled slightly. 

Ben released a slow breath.  “I know gathering buffalo chips is not what you would choose to do after a day on the wagon, but it is necessary if we are to have a fire.” 

“Billy started chasing me.” 

“And you started throwing chips at him?” 

“He threw back.” 

“And whose landed in our stew pot?” 

“Mine.” 

The End

A/N:  This compilation of five vignettes that take place on Ben Cartwright’s trip West were written in response to challenges on a former website and focus on Ben and a young Adam.