Finally the day arrived. A sunny, blue sky day. The house had been prepared. It was festooned in garlands and lanterns. Hop Sing had a clutch of relatives ranging from first cousin number one down to second cousin number eleven, twice removed. They would be on hand to serve food and drinks. After the private ceremony there would be an open buffet. Dancing and partying till either the musicians tired, the dancers tired or the wine stopped flowing.
Griff was posted as look out. As soon as he caught sight of Candy, driving the Cartwright buggy. Thomas and Harriet Simms as passengers and of course the bride. Bringing her to her groom. At first sight, he was given orders to speed back to the house and alert the family. Ben was back and forth like an expectant father. Had this been done? Had that been brought? Were there enough glasses? The combination of Hop Sings Cantonese rants and Ben Cartwright’s stentorian tones of irritation and frustration echoed through the house.

The pounding of horses hooves, followed by a flying dismount brought a hush to the house and yard. Hoss and Joe dragged a reluctant elder brother into the bunkhouse. Adam was more than happy to stay in his room until the given moment. But no, this wasn’t to be allowed. He wasn’t as much nervous as he was annoyed and more than a little fed up with all paraphernalia. He wished now that Etta and he, by themselves, had fled to Carson City. Paid the preacher and returned. The job done and dusted. They had discussed it a number of times. Although Etta had said she was quiet happy to do away with the ‘liga malol’ as Hop Sing had called it. Adam had a niggling feeling that she would be acquiescing to his wishes. After all the woman had never had a wedding day. Isn’t a ‘wedding day’ what all womanhood craved? There was also his father to consider. Even though he was running around like a headless chicken. In Adam’s opinion his Pa was enjoying every minute.

Now, here he was in the bunkhouse with the Ponderosa ranch hands. Men, hard as nails and as tough as old boots. Behaving like a classroom of giddy school girls on their first dates.

Adam had had enough of Hoss’s fussing and Joe’s bad jokes. He made for the privacy of Candy’s old room. Which was one of the perks of the foreman’s job. Candy had moved into the ranch house, but with the number of guests being accommodated. He had opted, for the time being, to return to his old room. Secretly Adam thought Candy was more than happy to have somewhere to escape from the madness and mayhem in the main house. To sneak off to this private sanctuary.

He checked his appearance in the shaving mirror over the basin. Well Pa, he said to himself, Etta Tone will not be marrying a rainbow faced, Cartwright clown. He grinned at his reflection. The recollection of the day by the waterhole, widened his smile. Hop Sings cold compresses and Asian unctions had dispensed nicely with the bruising. He fingered his still tender jaw. He figured he owed little brother a dig. He would take enjoyment in planning just the right moment.

All the hands had been invited to the party after the wedding ceremony. Uncharacteristically, but correctly, Hoss had likened the reeking bunkhouse to a back street ‘henhouse’ on a busy Saturday night.

“Yer bound to be nervous,” Hoss advised for the umpteenth time. Adam, swore that if he heard those words again he would poke Hoss in the mouth. Wedding day or no wedding day. He once more slapped his big brother’s hands away from the correctly tied, silk string around his neck. If there was one thing that Adam Cartwright never had any bother with, it was fixing his own tie.

“Hoss there aint a nervous bone in ole granite heads body,” Joe remarked as he lay stretched out on Candy’s bed. For one of the few times in his life Adam was in complete agreement with his youngest brother. It was true he wasn’t nervous. He was impatient to get the whole ritual over and done with. It was in his mind to grace the party as long as was deemed appropriate and then to whisk Mrs Cartwright…how good that sounded. To whisk her away to the new Cartwright residence. To be alone together in their own home. These thoughts were keeping him sane and driving him crazy.

When the word filtered through that ‘SHE WAS HERE’. The bunkhouse took on the sound and appearance of a large beehive. Hands buzzing back and forth like demented drones awaiting the arrival of the Queen. The fact that none of them would be attending the actual ceremony mattered not a fig to anyone. They were going to the party. Craggy, rough men of all ages and sizes. Who were more used to wearing flappy, sweaty, leather chaps and herding steers. Were displaying scrubbed faces and trimmed beards. Wearing, if they had any, their Sunday best shirts, or their regular apparel, all washed clean for the occasion. Hop Sing scurried into the hive. The small Chinese man with one hard look silenced the cackling bees.

“Mistah Adam, number one son. Come get sliced. now” Adam felt as if he were being summoned to an execution. All that was missing was the drum roll.

The great room had been cleared of any bulky furniture. The sofa, easy chairs, dining table and Ben’s desk were pushed to the walls. The high back dining chairs were placed side by side for the invited, female guests to be seated on. Garlands of flowers bedecked the bannisters and runnels of the stairway.

Waiting now at the spot allocated. Adam surveyed his surroundings and the small array of guests. A tight knot balled in his stomach. Where as his mouth had dried to powdered dust. The back of his neck, his upper lip and the palms of his hands were damp with perspiration. He clenched his fist in an effort to dry his palms and twisted his neck trying to loosen the collar of his shirt, which had suddenly started to choke him.

This, he said to himself is ridiculous. He was a grown man. He was about to do something he dearly wanted to do. He was in no danger. He had no fear for his life or safety. Why then did he feel as if her were surrounded by a band of hostile injuns, and down to his last bullet.

His big brother stood tall and proud at his side. Even though all morning Hoss had been complaining he was more nervous than a skittish colt. To Adam he certainly didn’t seem like it now. The kid, Adam allowed himself a tight smile. Joe was no longer a kid. He stood a foot in front and to the side of Hoss. He cut a strikingly, handsome figure in what Hoss called, shortshanks’s Mexican torndoor outfit.

Adam watched as Joe pulled himself up to his full height. He obviously wanted to whisper something to his big brother. But unless he stood on tip toe or Hoss lowered his head. Which, at the touch of Joe’s hand to his elbow, he obligingly did. Joe would never have delivered his message. By the smirk of a grin that appeared on Hoss’s round face. Adam had no doubt that the comment was about himself. He figured Joe would be reneging on his earlier remark. That his eldest brother had not a nervous bone in his body. Adam’s tight smile now popped a dimple. He wondered if Joe knew that twice in one day the eldest and youngest of the Cartwight’s were in agreement. This, he thought must be some sort of record.

Abigail Jones, he could never get used to calling her Myers, sat upright, straight as a die. Her husband Hank stood behind her. Roy Coffee had squired Clementine Hawkins. Clem, with his soon to be wife Tilda were present. She was sitting beside Paul Martin’s wife Rose. His Pa, in a dark frock coat and silver vest, never looked more resplendent and proud. He stood, resting his arm on the back of the Harriet Simms’s chair. Hiram’s wife Esther sat in the second row. Adam suddenly felt as if he were an invisible voyeur watching from above. He was not a part of this picture of smartly dressed men and fashionable, clothed women. Their small plumed hats decorating their coiffured locks.

Before Adam could run his gaze across the other guests. He was jerked from his reverie, and down from his imagined perch on the ceiling. The oo’s and aahh’s, combined with loud gasps, almost drowned the opening chords of ‘The Wedding March’. The church organ, it too bedecked with flowers. Had been positioned so that Mrs Taft, the pastors wife, had clear view of the stairway and upper floor.

His bride stood at the top of the stairs. Thomas Simms at her side. To the strains of the March they descended to the half landing. For a fleeting moment they halted. Etta’s dress of pale cream silk. The material, a gift from Hop Sing. Delivered, by another cousin, straight from San Fransisco’s China Town. Draped her body with shimmering translucence. Etta’s fragile, slender, form was stunningly beautiful and as unique as a single snowflake. The lace veil that covered her head and fell to her shoulders. Did little to contain the wispy tendrils of soft, brown, curls that peeked out and hung in spirals on either side of her face. Adam had hoped that she would not tie her beautiful hair in a knot at the back of her neck. She had in fact, loosely pinned it. Leaving just enough hair on display to be considered as appropriate. A small posy of blooms shook in her nervous grasp.

Gazing up at the vision of loveliness that in moments would become Mrs Adam Cartwright. Adam’s previous nervous condition melted from his body. A frisson of ecstatic desire swept him from head to toe. Leaving a powerful urge to bound up the stairs. Sweep her into his arms and flee. Just to get away. To go anywhere from where they were. Instead he listened to the chords and music of the German composer and pianist, Felix Mendelssohn. He stood, and watched in awe, along with everyone else in the room. The arrival of the glittering bride…His glittering bride.

The ceremony proceeded and went ahead without a hitch. The vows were taken and the ‘I do’s’ were whispered from trembling lips and parched throats. Congratulations were extended and accepted. Backs were slapped, shoulders squeezed and hands shaken. Kisses and cuddles bestowed and welcomed. Suddenly the house, yard and barn were milling with people. Young, old, male, female, adults and children. Eating, drinking, laughing and enjoying the hospitality of the Cartwright’s.

Parties on the Ponderosa were always a special occasion. This one more so, Ben Cartwright’s eldest son was now a married man. One of the most eligible bachelors in Nevada, was no more. Groups of woman and girls stood or sat huddled. Discussing this meritorious happening. Some were disappointed, some were amazed. Both these feelings were quickly swept away. There were two more Cartwights and the music was about to start. The fiddlers rosined their bows. The band struck a lively tune. The party began in earnest and remained in earnest until well into the early hours. The dancing went on until the musicians tired. The singing went on till throats were soar.

Adam’s plan to leave early didn’t go as expected. The guests departed or went to their rooms. Adam, music playing in his head, hummed the melody and waltzed Etta under the stars. The two were oblivious to Hop Sing’s numerous relatives making quick work of the clearing and cleaning. Oblivious to their audience. Oblivious to everything. They had eyes only for each other.

“Little brother l reckons as how that must be the best party that’s has ever been seen this side of the Sierra’s…don’t yer reckon shortshanks?” the brother’s sat side by side on the porch. Watching Adam and Etta in envious admiration and happiness.

“I agree brother, none finer…that is till me…or you, do the right and proper thing.” grinning Joe gave Hoss’s arm a friendly dig. The big elbow slipped from the arm of the chair, causing a slight spillage from the glass he was holding. Hoss’s frown of annoyance was met with a palm of surrender. Both brothers had more than a sufficient amount of alcohol flowing through their veins.

“Aint that the truth,” Hoss gave a soft chuckle. “don’t be in too much of a hurry shortshanks, l don’t reckon as how Pa’d take the strain.” Hoss twisted his head around as if he were looking for something or someone. “where’s Pa anyhows?” Joe lay his head back on his shoulders and looked up at the trillions of twinkling stars. It would be kinda nice, he thought, to have a warm, curvy body to cosy up to every night. Hoss’s size 16 boot nudged him back to reality. “l said where’s our Pa?”

“No idea. Old mans gone to bed l reckon. You know something big brother?” Hoss adopted the same star gazing position. Stretching his legs out to give further ease to his tired body.

“Nope, but l reckon l’m gonna find out purty soon.”

“Iffun Pa was so mad at us the other day. An he was sure fired up, weren’t he?” Joe paused waiting for the reply which was duly giving.

“Madder than a wet hen being chased by ole Hop Sing with a cleaver in his paw,”

“How come he caint wait to tell the ole ‘waterhole’ story? l swear every time l saw him he was entertaining someone or other, an getting a barrel of laughs in return.”

“Little brother, now yer don’t know Pa quiet as well as yer think. Me and Adam, now we reckons, Pa, he laughed hisself silly all the way ter town, specially over you. Yer still don’t know when to button up yer smart mouth. An, l’ll tell yer, what’s more, that story will hold good for years ter come. Reckon it’ll be one for the gran kiddies.”

“l reckons gonna be a lot sooner than that.” Hoss’s head snapped up. He grabbed hold of his brother’s chair and spun it around to face him.

“What the heck’s got inta you?” Joe registered his disapproval.

“What yer saying little brother?” Hoss’s anger at Joe’s offhand remark was evident in his ice blue, fierce glare. Joe backtracked his thoughts.

“You might know Pa better than me, but l reckon l know elder brother.”

Hoss was not placated “’xactley, what does that mean?”

Was his brother that naive, thought Joe. He decided that maybe he was. He also decided that it was not the right time to inform Hoss of Adam’s and Etta’s ‘consenting adults’ stuff. Which had been going on since before the first time they left Turner’s Town. “Come on Hoss, elder brother’s just got married. One an one makes three, don’t it?” Footsteps on the porch halted Hoss’s reply.

“What are you two fighting about now?” Adam stood, looking down on his brothers. His new wife, a dreamy smile playing on her lips was curled into his arm. Her arm tight around his waist.

“Fighting?” Joe gave Hoss a questioning, dumbfounded look “me and Hoss?”

“Hoss and I.” Adam couldn’t help himself. Joe shrugged and grinned, figuring he had won the round.

“What’er you and Hoss fighting for? Me an big brother aint fighting. We’re discussing the night sky, aint we Hoss?” Hoss nodded his agreement. An arched eyebrow gave credence to Adam’s disbelief. He eyed his annoying brother and wondered if it would be appropriate to give him, right now, the poke in the mouth he had coming. On hearing Etta’s giggles he reconsidered.

“You just keep a good look out for Uranus, little brother.” Adam advised as he led his even more giggly bride into the house. Joe scowled at his brother’s departing back. Adam had, as usual, the last word. That round was elder brothers.

“What in tarnations yeranus?” Hoss, anger diffused, turned questioning eyes on his little brother. Joe, stood up. Tiredness suddenly overwhelmed him. Giving Hoss a kindly pat on the head. He bade him a good night adding…

“I’ll tell yer when yer all growed up.” Joe walked into the house, leaving a puzzled big brother to finish his drink alone under the stars.