That evening at dinner neither Etta nor Hoss could put a finger on Adam’s ravenous appetite. Etta had boasted to Hoss of Thomas Simms and his kitchen abilities the man prided himself on his cooking and always set a fine table. Hoss never paid too much mind as his brother had said he would explain his growling gut. Etta remained mystified.

Later the same evening when the days chores were completed. Little Joe had been tended to. Adam was at his bedside, either talking to his brother or reading aloud.

Etta and Hoss were sitting opposite each other, each in one of the comfortable high backed arm chairs. They were separated by a low wooden table on which was set out a chess board with finely carved wooden pieces. It had become the norm that which ever brother wasn’t sitting with Joe, the other would challenge Etta to a game. Hoss had yet to chalk up a victory. Adam and Etta were well matched having won a games each and had drawn then drawn a few.

Adam’s velvet brown tones as he read to Little Joe were background accompaniment to the on going game. Leaning over the board with his large head and neck huddled down into his broad shoulders, Hoss alternatively chewed at his lip in deep thought then flicked his gaze across at Etta. She sat, her head resting back against the cushioned chair her eyes closed. Taking more interest in the words of Captain Ahab as voiced by Adam Cartwright than she had for the game of chess with Hoss Cartwright. Hoss had no doubt that if he were Joe he would easily have taken advantage of his opponent. Especially as he had placed himself in a position of dire straights. He could see no alternative but to resign. Diversifying in his thoughts it suddenly came to him that shortshanks never cheated at chess, only at checkers. Maybe, Hoss thought the kid took the game of chess to be too serious to mess with.

Shrugging with the acceptance of another lost game. Hoss decided that no one could figure out the ins and outs of little brothers head anyway. Which then turned his mind to the bandages that at the moment encircled that curly brown head of hair. He pushed the picture from his mind. He wanted to ask Etta something but it looked as if she really had fallen under the spell of Adam’s soporific reading voice. Hoss recalled the many times he had fallen asleep cocooned in those tones.

Startled by nothing or possibly her own thoughts Etta sat bolt upright in the chair. Suddenly she realised she had fallen asleep during the game. Embarrassed somewhat by what she thought to be a lack of manners she apologised to her opponent. Hoss laughed and put her at her ease telling her the game was lost long even before Etta had lost herself to slumber and anyhow it was Adam’s fault. He was the master of lulling someone to sleep as he had done it so many times for himself and Joe. In fact he told her that as a kid Little Joe would often convince Pa as he worked so hard during the day, that he was too tired to read an he wouldn’t be able to read the story properly, Just so he could have Adam read to him and not upset his Pa by preferring to listen to his elder brother. Thinking that now he was being disrespectful to his Pa, Hoss added that of course Pa had a grand reading voice, it was just little brother being picky… Halting his words Hoss thought back to the many times his little brother twisted Pa round that flexible little finger of his.

Watching the big man, Etta reflected, she had known the Cartwright’s no more than a week or two, but in word, deed and thought they were not ashamed or embarrassed to show their feelings for one another.

“I reckon Miss Etta,” Hoss still could not bring himself to drop the title, “Little Joe could talk himself outa the jaws of a bear,” Hoss returned Etta’s strained smile and said a silent prayer to the Lord that he would let hear his little brother’s voice again. Snapping himself out of his doldrums he returned his mind to the question he had been pondering “I wanted to ask yer Miss Etta, aint by any chance yer got a guitar around abouts anywhere? I’m only asking coz Adam was looking fer his. He kinda fergot he left it in the wagon thats gone back to the Ponderosa. An elder brother don’t like to parted fer long from his music.”

“You mean he plays guitar as well?…he is not just the bedtime story reader?” she teased as she hauled herself from the chair and made her way to a door at the far end of the room.

“You aint hardly heard nothing till yer heard Adam strumming. Them fingers fair fly over them strings…an sing, well.. Lawdy, sorry Miss Etta, it kinda sounds as if l am trying to sell elder brother to ya, don’t it?” Sheepishly looking up from beneath his furrowed brow he found Etta standing before him pursing a grin as she dusted down a glossy, fancy, twelve string guitar.

“It does at that Hoss…and you know you may well have found yourself a buyer.” she teased playfully and allowed her smile to widen. Satisfied, she handed the guitar to him.

Hoss’s eyes rounded in astonishment. Taking the offered instrument Hoss turned it back and forth, “Dadburn it….dadburn…it, but that’s a beauty.”

“Well go on,” Etta urged, Hoss looked at her aghast, “Me…oh no, not me l aint string tickler, it’s elder brother’s got the feel for music. He’d be mighty pleased to see this that’s for sure. Yer husband musta played many a fine tune on this.”

Etta decided the more she saw of Hoss Cartwright the more she liked him. She knew that Hoss was well aware that she and Matthew were not husband and wife. How she wished there were more good and tender souls the like of this man wandering the earth.

“Hoss to be perfectly honest Matthew was better at picking a fancy guitar than picking a tune. As for plucking, well he was always better with a chicken in his hand than a guitar…of course, you know l never told him that.”

The brief pause added to the moment they knew that eye contact would trigger the bubbling laughter that was seeking an outlet. Yet it was impossible not to glance at each other. Within seconds the bubbles burst, the combined roars of laughter drew Adam from the bedroom.

“And what may I ask are…big brother where did you get that?” Adam took hold of the guitar. “this brother is most definitely the best and most beautiful piece of workmanship that…” he was breathlessly, speechless. With reverence he held the arm of the instrument and delicately ran his palm down and over the strings. His touch, as that of a lovers. He caressed the body and even held the guitar to his face to drink in the perfume of the varnished and lacquered wood. He tapped his flattened palm against the strings the soft resonance brought a smile of pleasure to his mouth.

Adam’s eye’s shone. His face was aglow with the excitement of a child knowing that its birthday wish had come true. Both Hoss and Etta watched fascinated. Adam appeared to be performing a sort of ritual. Now he held the guitar high on his chest. The fretted arm close to his ear. With eyes closed he stroked a thumb downward across the strings. Once…twice, before he stroked for the third time he became aware of his audience. Keeping the guitar close to his chest Adam slowly opened his eyes and peered from beneath the long black lashes. His eyes fixed upon the two Cheshire cats standing before him, names of Hoss and Etta.

“And what are you two grinning at?”

Etta shook her head and brought her hand to her mouth. Hoss stated the obvious.

“Reckon its gotta be you elder brother, yer sure look like the third cat, the one that’s got the cream.”

Still holding the guitar close to his chest. Adopting a superior attitude Adam cast a sweeping glance over his audience. “You two carry on…l’ll go back to where l am appreciated.” turning on his heel he theatrically flounced back to the bedroom.

“I reckon yer sure made elder brother a happy man Miss Etta.” Hoss stood arms crossed over his chest. Smiling broadly at the back of his brother as he disappeared into the bedroom.

“It certainly appears so,” tucking her small tanned arm into Hoss’s large tanned arm Etta guided him into the kitchen. “Let me see if l can do the same for the middle brother.” with these words Etta opened the larder cupboard door and drew out a plate of spiced ginger snap cookies.

Now it was Hoss’s eyes that shone. Hoss’s childlike excitement. To the strains of erratic plucking of strings Etta brewed a fresh pot of coffee. By the time she was sitting at the table across from the large man crunching happily on cookies. A soft sweet air played expertly on perfectly tuned strings filled the room.

“Brahms,” Etta whispered, leaning her head against the upright wooden chair back. She closed her eyes and let the music sweep over her.

“Sure is pretty.” Hoss too sat back taking as much pleasure to the listening of the music as his elder brother was doing to the playing of it.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

The days passed into weeks that daily pattern of life hardly varying. Adam knew that very soon he would have to once more return to Turner’s Cross. He wasn’t looking forward to it. He had declined Hoss’s offer of taking in the wagon for the supplies. Not wanting him to witness or experience the received ignorant treatment that had been warranted to himself..

Hoss had become very fond of Etta and she of him. Adam knew now, though at first he had pangs of jealousy and resentment that Hoss and Etta had developed a bond as strong as any brother and sister. He feared that his big brother would not be able to control himself if he met up with the bigoted shopkeeper and barkeeper and as far as Adam knew any other of the residents of Turner’s Cross.

His own feelings for Etta Tone he held closely guarded. Boxed tight with the lid closed and locked. He was more than aware that Etta was fond of him as she was of Hoss. How much deeper those feelings went he did not know nor had he the courage to dig.

He had told Hoss about his day in town, barring his conversations with both the barman and the shop keeper. Hoss surprised him by telling him that he had seen the gravestone of Matthew and Matty Tone. It was set in a small thicket of trees across on the other side of the meadow.

Everyday Hoss turned out the three Cartwright horses in the meadow behind the house. His reasons being that the horses not being used as they were on the Ponderosa. The animals needed the exercise and he could keep a close watch on Cochise in case he had missed anything re her fall.

It also gave himself a stretch of the legs. There was now very little manual work to do. The indoor pump had been installed and the drainage ditches as like the ones in Hop Sings vegetable garden had been dug and were in use. He enjoyed the walk to the tree line. That was where he came across the simple stone etched with the words ‘Matthew and Matty J Tone, Beloved Father and Son. RIP’

The words at the time had startled him, he not knowing that Etta had given birth to a child. He made it a habit to collect a handful of wild meadow flowers and place them against the stone.

He had never seen Etta go anywhere near the grave.