Summary:  A Christmas continuation of The Art Universe
Rating:  G  3,410 words

Written for the 2024 Bonanza Brand Advent Calendar

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Bonanza
~*~*~ Advent Calendar ~*~*~
* Day 10 *

With a Flourish

Adam wasn’t overly fond of the cold, and so doing outside chores on a crisp winter afternoon did not rank too high on his list of favourite past times.

But the house, his house, currently was occupied by no less than five women planning a wedding, and he’d quickly learned that male attendance wasn’t really required and only tolerated during what he called a very late lunch, but Juliet insisted was named High Tea. Sure, there was tea involved and also scones, both sweet and savoury, fruit cake and sandwiches, but it had been the first meal after breakfast, and even the dainty sandwiches served to satisfy a hungry grown man – if he just ate enough of them. Something of that the female party didn’t look very fondly.

After that High Tea he’d been, not too subtly, complimented out, together with Henry, who, now almost seven, clearly wasn’t regarded a child anymore (unlike Florence, who was only four months old—and female anyway) but a man not permitted to be present during serious women talk.

And to be honest, checking the food troughs and combing horses easily trumped listening to whether pink or pale yellow was to be the most favourable colour for a wedding cake and whether this lace or that suited Susan better (both looking very much the same to Adam’s “uncouth” eye. Yes, that comment of his had been what ultimately knocked him out.)

Although quite cold, it was also sunny, which turned the snow that covered the yard’s every surface from powdery to something pliable, malleable and stable, ideal to be formed into snowballs. And sure enough, while Adam used the unplanned time outside to chop wood and stack it close to the front door for easy access during the cold nights that lay ahead, Henry entertained himself with producing an impressive arsenal of frosty missiles, all neatly arranged behind the other stack of wood on the other end of the yard, close to the kitchen house.

The view of Henry’s red bonnet, bobbing up and down behind the stack and the boy’s not very clandestine sashays to not yet harvested piles of snow was very familiar. Not only once this behaviour had led to Henry’s unsuspecting father becoming the victim to an ambush. Usually, it further led to more or less epic snow battles that left both of them very happy, yet also wet and shivering. But today Adam didn’t feel like getting wet and shivery.

“Don’t even think of it,” he said without even looking at Henry.

The answer was prompt and slightly offended. “I didn’t think of anything.”

Now Adam looked Henry’s way, and as he caught the boy’s gaze, he lifted his eyebrow. “No?”

“Lift not one eyebrow higher that the other,” Henry responded, unsuccessfully trying to hide an exceptionally large snowball behind his back.

Adam rolled his eyes, realising his error too late, for, of course, Henry promptly quipped, “Do not roll the eye.”

As much as they’d all enjoyed the entertainment provided by the book Abigail Myers had gifted Henry on Christmas Day, the 110 Rules of Civility & Decent Behaviour in Company and Conversation were now starting to wear on their nerves, as Henry loved to cite from them whenever he seemed fit. Very often hitting the mark very painfully.

“Yes, and disrespect not your esteemed father by pelting him with frozen items,” Adam improvised. “Rather, save your missiles for your Uncle Joe.”

Henry’s eyes lit up. “Uncle Joe’s also invited?”

“No,” Adam said and split a particularly large log. “But I’m pretty sure he’s coming none the less. Hoss must have told him Caroline is here, and I’m very positive he’s already on is way.”

At the mention of Caroline, Henry made a face.

Caroline Granger, sister of Hoss’s intended, had hurried home from Chicago, where she’d attended Mt. Carroll Seminary, as soon as Susan’s letter with the big announcement of the Advent betrothal had reached her. If Adam had understood her correctly, she didn’t want to abandon her sister in her hour of need, which planning a wedding apparently was. Wisely, he had not pointed out that Susan already had support in her hour of need from her future sister-in-law, Adam’s remarkably involved wife Juliet, Juliet‘s seamstress, Miss Winterling, and the formidable Widow Hawkins herself.

From early on, Mrs. Hawkins had considered Juliet in desperate need of a mother, and gladly taken it upon herself to fulfil this role. Juliet, who usually was very reserved with her affection, had readily accepted the widow as her substitute, well, perhaps not mother, but motherly figure. Subsequently, Mrs. Hawkins had quite naturally become Henry’s and Florence’s grandmother—something Adam and Juliet very much encouraged. Their children had only one biological grandparent, and Mrs. Hawkins lived up to her honorary title with aplomb and devotion.

So while Henry was very pleased to have his grandmother in all but name come to the ranch today (and on arrival subtly slipping him a small bag of sherbet lemons) and was comfortable with Miss Winterling, who he’d known for all his life, he obviously didn’t know what to make of Caroline, of whom he had only heard. Caroline was very pretty, something Adam knew his son appreciated, but she was also the former lady friend of his uncle Joe who’d broken his heart and now very openly out of sort with him. And no one was allowed to break Henry’s revered uncles’ hearts or speak other than most highly of them.

Adam wasn’t certain how Henry would react to his uncle Joe trying to win Caroline back as soon as he set eye on her, but he was certain he’d be wiser about that before the day was over. Because those two things were as inevitable as death and taxes: Joe’s arrival within the hour, and his wooing of Caroline Granger. The only question remaining was how she’d react, even though Adam strongly suspected that once beautiful Caroline was subjected to Joe’s ever improving charms she’d be a lost cause. In fact, a future double wedding didn’t seem too far a stretch.

And as expected, when Adam turned to scan the road leading to the ranch, he spotted a dark silhouette at the horizon that rapidly got bigger. Henry must have caught sight of his unwitting victim, too, as, with a gleeful shout, he darted behind the wood stack, ducking low enough for even the bobble of his bonnet to be hidden from view.

It was going to be splendid. Brilliant, really, to emulate a certain young man currently hiding behind a fortress of firewood. Adam put the axe down and leaned on the chopping block, ready to welcome Joe, but decidedly out of harm’s way.

Soon enough, they heard Joe shouting from afar, “Hello the ranch!”, and then he was there, arriving with his usual hurly-burly. His eyes darted across the yard, as if he was expecting Caroline to wait for him outside, presumably with bated breath, they stopped briefly on Adam, acknowledging his older brother’s presence with a mere blink, then went towards the front window.

A short glance affirmed Adam that Joe’s arrival had not gone unnoticed and that Caroline indeed (albeit not with bated breath or so Adam assumed) stood at the window, watching Joe’s grand entrance.

And grand an entrance it was. Although, perhaps, at least towards the finale, a mite different that Joe must have envisioned it.

Joe brought his horse to a stop in a half circle, whirling up a spectacular cataract of snow, something, Adam suspected, Joe had very much intended and often practised. Then, after a quick glance to the window, Joe dismounted with what can only described as a flourish. It was a sight to behold, elegant, smooth, artistic.

Alas, the moment his left leg touched the ground, supporting all his weight while his right still performed that impressive twirl, he was hit by a big, fat snowball. Right in the middle of his face. A magnificent strike, masterfully aimed and conducted, and perfectly timed.

Of course, it hit Joe completely unexpected, causing him to wobble on his one mainstay, overcompensate and then make a hasty rescue attempt. Haste isn’t the way to navigate on snowy ground, though, and so Joe’s pillar to the earth gave way and slipped out from under him, somehow opposite from where his other leg was still twirling; and when he finally landed, it was heavy and with a sonorous sound on his behind.

Adam could have sworn that for the next few seconds the yard was shrouded in a silence so solid one could literally hear the scatter of snowflakes slowly settling around the completely petrified Joe.

Then Henry appeared at Joe’s side, eyes wide and anxious. “Are you all right, Uncle Joe? You are not hurt, are you?”

Pushing his hat back and wiping snow from his nose, Joe squinted at his nephew. “Ahh, here’s the culprit. No, nothing’s hurt, little tyke. Just my pride.”

Now Henry was all smiles again. “I got ya real good, didn’t I?”

“You got the Cartwright aim, there’s no questioning that.”

Joe held his hand out to Adam and let himself be helped up. He brushed snow from his coat and his pants, and then, hand still on his behind, froze again. “Oh, dang it,” he groaned.

“What is it? Still more hurt than you thought, little brother?”

“Not me.” Joe looked pained beyond comprehension.

Adam raised an eyebrow, just in time remembering to hold a stopping hand out to Henry. “Not. You?”

He waited.

Nothing from Joe.

Now with an encouraging nod, “But?”

Joe just stared back.

It could have gone on like that for hours, they all could have frozen to death without ever knowing what ailed Joe, or rather not-Joe, if not for Henry, who thankfully was not trapped in those odd, decades old brotherly antics. Henry did what every sane and reasonable person would do, and had a good look at his uncle’s behind.

And then burst out laughing. “He ripped—”

“Barn,” Adam interrupted him. “Quick. Go backwards. Girl’s still watching.”

To his credit, Joe managed to look nonchalant and as if entering a barn with his back first was a completely normal thing to do, and he even took his horse along, clearly trying to make the impression that looking after his mount was the sole reason for the abrupt retreat.

In the dim light of the barn, Adam saw the whole magnitude of Joe’s predicament. The artistic fall had caused a tear in his pants that went from the waistband down to the middle of his left buttock. It was a small miracle the pants still sat at Joe’s hip, as the waistband was held together by just a few threads of fabric. It was bound to rip apart completely any moment, thus leaving the Wooer of Caroline effectively with his pants down.

“I’ll go and fetch you a pair of mine.” Adam heroically suppressed a grin. “Nothing to be done here.”

Joe was all personified indignance. “I wouldn’t want to be seen mucking stables in your grandpa pants, much less by my future wife.”

“Your future wife. Did Caroline already succumb to your cajoling?”

“No, and she won’t see my merits if I turn up in your…er…”

“Clobber?” Henry provided helpfully.

Adam shot him a warning glare, then turned his attention back to Joe. “Not much choice, I’m afraid,” he said.

“But your pants are too big for me anyway.” Joe twisted to try and closer inspect the damage. “We gotta fix this, or I’m gonna be miserable for ever.”

Adam pinched the bridge of his nose, mostly to hide the eyeroll from Henry, but also because, well, because.

Henry on the other hand wasn’t defeated so easily. “You can have my safety pin,” he said, rummaging in his pants pocket.

He laid everything he found in there out on a hay bale: a broken dip pen, three match sticks, a piece of willow bark, a candy wrapper, two feathers, one grey, one snowy white, an oddly shaped pebble, and a safety pin. It was a collection very similar to what Adam used to have in his pants pocket as a boy—sans the safety pin, of course, which hadn’t been available back then.

It was only one safety pin, and it wouldn’t fix the whole tear, but at least it stabilised the waistband and made it possible for Joe to enter the house without losing his pants. Although, under no circumstances he was to turn his back on Caroline, as the tear was still visible under Joe’s short jacket.

“Shows the superiority of long coats,” Adam couldn’t help remarking. He’d bring this up for the rest of his life whenever Joe felt the need to tease him about his old man gear again.

Joe brushed it off. “I won’t turn my back on Caroline ever again anyway,” he stated, and then, without any further ado, confidently strode over to the house.

Caroline, having observed Joe’s fall, was all pity and fussy, and ushered Joe to the settee to sit and rest and get better, which served Joe just right. Even being restricted to sit quite stiffly on a sofa did not diminish Joe’s charms, and in even less time than Adam had anticipated, Joe had Caroline leaving his side only to go and fetch more coffee for him, slices of fruitcake and a glass of Adam’s finest brandy.

Inevitable, yeah.

Later Henry claimed that only his safety pin was to be thanked for Uncle Joe talking Caroline around—or why else should he have asked Henry to be his best man?

Adam was inclined to bow to that compelling logic.

~~~~~~~

If you want to know more about Abigail’s gift to Henry, and it came to it, read my Advent calendar story from two years ago, here The Icicle of Doom

The prompt was safety pin, invented in 1839.

 

Link to Day 10 of the Bonanza Brand Advent Calendar – The Storm Whisperer by mcfair_58