Summary: Ben Cartwright reflects on his life with a kind listener.

Warning(s): This little story is Alternate Universe in genre.  Adam has returned, Jamie is present as well, and Hoss definitely has NOT died.  As I watch myself aging, I find myself wondering about Ben as he grew older, what subjects he would think about; where his train of thought might travel; what would be important to him.  This story is a kind of ‘wishful thinking’ result of that pondering. I hope you enjoy it.  There are references to OCs from my own stories, as well as stories co-written with fellow Bonanza writer Vicki Christian.  Having read them isn’t necessary to understand this story, I’m simply noting these characters’ origins.

Rating: G/K (7,265 words)

TALKING TO JANE

“You’re a kind woman, Miss Dearford.  I can’t tell you how much I appreciate all your kindness and help these last weeks.”

“Oh, Mr. Cartwright, not at all!  And please, do call me Jane.  I enjoy being here, and if I have been able to make things easier for you and your sons, all the better.  Now, do you think you could possibly get another bite or two down?  You’ve eaten less than half of your lunch.”

A tired chuckle. “Yes, I know.  I’m not very hungry today.  I’m just not active enough to create an appetite, I suppose…”

“Very well, I’ll set it aside. There’s nothing more depressing than seeing a half-eaten plate in front of you when you’re not hungry any longer, is there?”

“Mmhmm…”

Sounds of crockery being shifted; a chair pulled closer to the bedside.  “You know, Mr. Cartwright, I wondered if you’d like to tell me something of yourself.  I’ve been reading books to you these weeks during your… your illness…”

“Oh, c’mon now, Jane, let’s not pretend.  Let’s just speak plain.  I’m dying. I  know I am, you  know I am.  So do the boys.”

Silence, then a calm, soft voice. “You’re an honest man, and a courageous one.”

“Nonsense, my dear.  I’m simply a realist.  I’m nearly eighty-seven years old.  I’ve lived a good, long life, had adventures, done dozens of jobs, raised four sons, had the love of three wonderful women, and built the Ponderosa.”

“And an amazing place it is!

A warmth enters his voice. “Thank you… I think so, too.”

“Instead of hearing other stories, I’d love to hear yours.”

“Oh!  Mine… Well, I don’t know…” The heave of a tired sigh.  “Let me think about it.  Perhaps another day.”

“Of course.  It’s a bit chilly today. Would you like another throw over you?”

“Yes, thank you.”

~-oo0oo-~

“Jane, being able to be down here instead of stuck upstairs in bed has been good for me.”

“You definitely look happier, sir!”

“I am.  In fact, I’ve been thinking.”

“Have you, Mr. Cartwright?  Here, let me take that empty coffee cup off your hands. So. What is it you’ve been thinking about?

“Well, what you mentioned the other day.  You know, about me telling you something of my story.”

“Oh!  And what have you decided?”

“You’ve been very kind, so the least I can do is entertain you a little. I’ve decided it’ll be kind of like the bedtime stories I used to tell the boys.” A self-derisive snort.

A sweet laugh.  “Well, that sounds like it will be great fun!”

“What is it you’d like to know about the Ponderosa?”

“Oh!  Well, let’s see… let’s start with this.  How big is it?”

“Well, it used to be roughly a thousand square miles.  It’s a bit smaller now… we had to divest a bit after the Silver rush ended and we had to rethink usage of the acreage.  But the timber stands are providing well.  Even though we’re not providing timbering for the mines any longer, there’s lots of new building going on all over the Carson Valley these days, and with the new rail lines leading north and south, it’s easier to transport logs and cut timber…”  A deep sigh can be heard.  “To protect a lot of it, though, and save the forests for my grandchildren and great-grandchildren and those to come, I’ve asked the boys to allow much of it to become protected forest.  They’ve agreed.  There’ll still be more than enough grazing for the herd, and those trees, those tall, strong trees that called me all those years ago and were here when Adam, Hoss and I first got here, will still stand for our descendants to see.  The Governor’s got the paperwork all ready to go.”

“Why, I think that’s wonderful, Mr. Cartwright!  Your son, Joe, told me how hard you worked to create this amazing place.”

“Oh, they all worked at it, as well. Joe and his brothers.  Not just me.”

“Your dream, though, according to Hoss.”

A chuckle.  “I think at times they may have thought it a nightmare…”

Silvery laughter.  “Here, sir, please have a sip.  You need to keep drinking liquids.”

The sounds of settling someone comfortably in a creaking leather chair, and a fire crackling cheerfully.

“What’s your favorite part of the Ponderosa, sir?”

“Ah…  that’s easy.  Any part of it that holds one or all of my sons.”

~-oo0oo-~

“Your sons are all such attractive men, Mr. Cartwright.”

A chuckle. “Don’t say that in their earshot.  Their hats won’t fit any longer to hear such a sweet, lovely young lady as yourself utter those words!  Their wives won’t appreciate it.”

“I’ll bet they were heartbreakers when they were youngsters!”

A snort. “Well, they certainly thought they were!”  A snort, leading to a fit of coughing.  The sound of something being poured into a glass.  “Thank you.” More of a wheeze than words. “All joking aside, their mothers were all beauties.  Have you seen their pictures?  No?  If you wish, go look on my desk.”

A rustle of skirts and footsteps.  “Oh, my goodness, they are!  And truly, there’s no mistaking which mother goes with which son!  The resemblance of Adam to his mother is… well, frankly it’s remarkable!  The same smile, completely!”

“Yes.”  The voice holds tenderness and a  smile. “He has her dimple, her mouth.  The color of her eyes. Her stubbornness, too!”

“Not just hers, I dare say.”

“Cheeky young woman!”

“My apologies, sir.”

A laugh. 

“Joe, too, resembles his mother, though she was much more fair-haired than he is. She was a blonde?”

“She was, yes, honey blonde.  You can’t tell from the picture, but those green eyes of his came from her.  In fact, all the boys have their mothers’ eyes.”

“A blessing… but perhaps sometimes hard for you, no doubt.”

A sigh. “That’s perceptive of you.”  A clearing of a throat.  “Jane… why?”

A moment of silence.

“I won’t be coy and pretend not to understand your question, Mr. Cartwright.  It’s just that in my work I know that many of my … clients… just don’t realize how important their stories are.  They think of their lives as boring.  Mundane.  Not out of the ordinary in the least.  I don’t think you fall quite into that category…” A bit of a rise in inflection at the end of that sentence, as though humorously questioning, answered by a masculine snort.  “I thought not.  But still, I’d be willing to bet there are stories that need telling.  Perhaps one son knows a tale, but not the others.  And perhaps there are some stories you’ve never told them at all.”

“And trust me, some I never will, ever!”

Silvery laughter.  “Fair enough.  But will you humor me?  Your grandchildren and great-grandchildren will appreciate it.”

“Well… yes, I suppose you’re right.”

“So, when did you first know you wanted a life of adventure?”

“Oh, my… Let’s see.  I think I was six, no, I was five when it became clear in my mind that I wanted to venture beyond our house and yard and the confines of what my parents considered a safe distance for me.  I can remember it being a truly glorious New England summer, hot and sunny… only a small child could remember that with joy!  The humidity doesn’t really bother a little shaver.  Mother was suffering from the heat, though.  I realize now it was because she was carrying my youngest brother.  Anyway, I remember seeing the tall masts of the ships coming into harbor from the widow’s walk  of our house and knew my father’s vessel was one of them. Young as I was, I could recognize Antigone’s rigging and masts.  I’d been forbidden to go to the waterfront on my own.  And now, a father and grandfather myself, I get a little green in the gills to realize the chances I took, a five-year-old traipsing alone through a half mile of the seedier parts of Boston and risking drowning at the harbor!”

“Goodness!”

“Exactly.  But, stubborn little cuss that I was, I was sure I could find my way.  The notion that I wouldn’t be all right never entered my mind.  I slipped out without Mother knowing and, after losing myself down a few side streets, managed to find my way to the wharf.  Sure enough, there was Father, barking out orders to his men unloading cargo, making the vessel ready for safe harboring.  I can remember being so excited, trying to imagine all the places that ship had seen!”

“A small boy’s dream, I can see that.”

“Soon to be a small boy’s nightmare.” A dry, sardonic tone.  “When Father spotted me, I thought he’d have an apoplexy. It’s a testament to his raising of me that I didn’t turn tail and run like mad the moment I saw his face and heard him bellow,  ‘Benjamin Joseph Cartwright!  Front and CENTER!’”

“Oh, dear!”

“’Oh, dear,’ is right.  I think I was likely the first and only five-year-old to get one devil  of a  spanking in the Captain’s cabin of that ship.” Combined laughter. “But even that punishment couldn’t dim my sense of adventure. And Father could see it.  He knew that I wanted to see the world beyond New England.  As time went on,  he just insisted I choose safer means of doing so. And I just wasn’t sure yet where that adventure might take me.”

“Quite a far way.”

“Quite a far way, indeed.”

~-oo0oo-~

“Jane, you appear to be a woman with something on her mind.”  A decidedly humorous tone.

“Oh, Mr. Cartwright, not really.  I was just thinking.”

“About?”  A snort of a chuckle.  “Jane Dearford! Are you blushing?!”

“Oh, my goodness…”

“My dear, if I’ve embarrassed you, I am truly desolate!  Please, let me – ”

“No, sir.  It’s just my Nosey Parker ways, as my mother would say.”  A sigh.  “I was honestly just wondering why all of your sons were … well, so much older when they married.  You were quite young when you and your first wife were wed, weren’t you?”

“Yes.”  A smile in the voice.  “I’d turned twenty the January before our wedding, and she was just seventeen. But I’d been first mate on the Wanderer for almost a year at the time… worked my way up from cabin boy.”

“Cabin boy?  How old were you then?”

“Twelve.  My father had died.  He was a ship’s captain, and when the Antigone went down off the coast of Maine in a gale, it left my mother without much to work with.  My father’s best friend, Abel Stoddard, offered to take me on as cabin boy and paid my wages directly to my mother.  And she did receive some money from the Antigone’s owner… enough to get her and my little brothers through.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, goodness, don’t be!  Part and parcel of being part of a seafaring family, I’m afraid.  And I’d known Captain Stoddard all my life. He was an excellent teacher when it came to learning the ropes at sea. He was also a good … well, I guess, father figure for me.  I needed one!”  A rather undignified snort.

“Naughty, were you?”

“Oh, I suppose more stubborn and single-minded than outright defiant.  If I was naughty it was more on the side of pig-headedness than mischief, I think, mistakenly believing myself to be fireproof…”

“And I imagine the Captain corrected that?” A distinctly amused tone.

“More than once, Miss Dearford.  More than once. May I have more of that coffee?”

“Of course!” The sound of pouring. “And you were able to lean on Captain Stoddard to … well, I suppose help you learn how to be a man?”

“That’s a wonderful way of putting it.  Yes, exactly.  The Captain helped me learn how to be a man my father would have been proud of.   As I said, he was Father’s best friend.  They used to race each other around the Horn.  And I’d wanted so badly to follow Father to the sea and have the adventures he did.”  A faraway tone to the voice, as though seeing a different time and place than the present.

“And did you? I mean, it’s one thing to see a lot of the world.  Quite another to have adventures while doing so.  Did you have the adventures you’d hoped for?”

“I certainly did!” A hearty laugh.  “I saw parts of the world I’d only dreamed of as a boy.   England… the Netherlands… Africa…up and down the American coast… South America…”  A sigh. “The one thing that my time at sea did was to make it crystal clear that Massachusetts wasn’t enough for me.”

“And yet, you married a young Massachusetts girl.”

A chuckle. “I did.  My beautiful Liz.”

“Yes… the Captain’s daughter, no less! That’s what made me wonder why your sons were so much older when they first wed.”

“Ah…”  The sound of a spoon, stirring in a china cup, and set on the saucer.  “I have often wondered how much of that was actually my fault.  I sometimes asked myself if… well, if it was watching my experience — losing three wives I loved, I mean.  I wondered if it… oh, I don’t know.  Spooked them, maybe.”

“Especially your two older sons.  Adam, having watched you love, and lose, two wonderful wives, and knowing about his own mother.  Hoss…”  A gentle sigh. “He’s such a sweet, caring man, and so shy around women, unlike what I’ve seen of his brothers.”  A definite chuckle, there.

“True, but Hoss has had his moments.  I’ll never forget the time he got the best of his two brothers and won the attention of a sultry Mexican maiden after a bullfight, or rather after the promise of a bullfight that instead turned into a full day’s effort to simply catch the animal.” A snort. “Hoss surprised us all in that situation…”

“Not his current wife, then, since his lovely lady is blonde and blue eyed?”

Laughter. “No, definitely not.  Claire is absolutely perfect for Hoss, and they adore each other.  Those two children of theirs, too.  No, falling in love wasn’t usually a problem for the boys… falling in love with the right woman seemed to be the issue.” *

“The right woman according to whom?”

Snort. “You’re not going to bait me.”  The tone grew more serious. “Or .. Jane, are you trying to tell me something?”

“Oh, no, sir, of course not!  I just know that the talk around town was that of the ‘Cartwright boys’  Joe, especially, would fall in and out of love at the drop of a hat.”

“Well, I can’t say they were wrong.  Joe’s a romantic, like his mother was.  And he had the ability to see the romance in all different kinds of women, from young girls to … “

“Julia Bulette?”

“Ah… heard about that one, did you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, whether or not it was meant to be for Julia and Joe, he truly loved her.  That was the difference with Joe compared to so many other young men.  He gives his whole heart when he falls in love, handing it over along with a total willingness to trust.  I’m glad he felt safe and secure  enough to do that after losing his mother at such a young age… even when doing so got him hurt. I wish his brothers had been that emotionally able and willing to do the same.”

“As you did.” Very gently said.

“Yes…. I suppose so….  Although, I was far more wary than Joseph.”

“It’s been bandied about that when Adam was young, he would unfortunately choose to fall in love with … um… “

“Inappropriate ladies?”

“Your words, not mine.  Let’s say emotionally unavailable women.”

“Deftly done, Jane.”

A feminine snort this time.

“And Hoss?  What have you heard about him?” True curiosity in the voice.

“I note no comment on Adam’s choice of companionship?”

Silence.

A chuckle.  “Well, let’s see… Hoss… That he was very shy, and reluctant to hurt any girl’s feelings so he usually backed away entirely, unwilling to risk his heart or theirs.”

“That sounds about right.  But it all boils down to neither of them feeling confident to make emotional commitments.”  The sound of fingers tapping on a leather chair arm.  “And I think the crux of the issue for Hoss and Adam was a fear of getting hurt, of loving someone just to have them leave in one way or another. Adam would set the terms of his relationships, while Hoss just backed away, far too often.  But I can’t find fault with them, as I was the same way.  It’s interesting that it was my second wife who helped me overcome that.”

“Inger.”

“Yes.  After Liz died, I was angry and felt deeply wounded.  She was truly my first love and losing her that way, in childbirth, just seemed so impossibly cruel.  It truly shook my faith.”

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Cartwright.”

“Yes, for a while God and I were on the outs, I’ll admit it.  Until poor Adam was about four.  He got terribly ill when we were on the road and after a long night of prayer and a local sawbones insisting that it was only through a miracle that he’d survive, even worrying about what seizures from his fever might have done to his brain…” The voice choked off.

“Oh, how frightening for you!’

“Very much so.  But after three endless days and nights of him suffering, he woke finally, fever broken and demanding food.  Then and there, I knew he’d been spared.  And I also knew it was high time I stopped blaming God for my troubles.  I wasn’t the first man to lose his wife, and I wouldn’t be the last.  Blaming the good Lord for it was hubris on my part in the extreme.  Anyway, I still was angry at the world, if not God, and wasn’t about to risk my heart again.  Inger took me in hand and… well, her touch healed me.  From that point on I never looked back.  Not even after Inger was killed.  I’m a man who loves women, Jane.” A slightly embarrassed tone.  “I feel… well, more complete with a woman in my life, a woman to hold and to love.  Meeting Joe’s mother was a surprise, but a welcome one… I’d been alone with just the boys for nearly five years.  There have been a few chances at love again since she died, though none actually solidified into something real, for whatever reason.”

“You’re a very physical man, Mr. Cartwright. No, please don’t be embarrassed. All people are different.  Some are more in their heads than their hearts.  But if you notice the words you just used… ‘a woman to hold’… ‘her touch healed me’… you  think and speak in terms of physicality.”

“Hmm… I never thought about it that way, but I believe you’re right. There’s no doubt Adam’s in his head much of the time…”

The voice was weary.

“Mr. Cartwright, you’re tired.”

“Nonsense.”

“Your eyelids are drooping.”  A soft clinking of crockery.  “I’ll just take these coffee things into the kitchen and get them washed up.  Why don’t you put your head back and rest a bit?”

“Oh… well, all right.  Thank you, Jane.”

~-oo0oo-~

“You seem very chipper today, Mr. Cartwright!  I’m very glad to see it.”

“Yes, I’m feeling pretty darned good, if I do say so myself, my dear.  Do you think you could assist me downstairs?”

“Let me see how steady you seem, and perhaps I can call one of the boys to assist, shall I?”

“I think Joe was in the office working on the books…”

Twenty minutes later…

The sound of a crackling fire, the pouring of liquid into a glass.

“Here you are, sir, have some iced tea.  Lemon and sugar, just the way you prefer it.”

“Thank you, my dear.” Sipping.  “What’s our topic of conversation today, O Authoress?”

Laughter.  “Well, it occurred to me that for many years you were both father and mother to your brood of boys.  Was it hard to raise four boys without a wife at your side?  I know there were many years where you had to be both mother and father.”

“It certainly had its moments…” A low, weary chuckle could be heard.  “Raising sons is one thing.   Raising Cartwright sons is quite another.”

Bell-like laughter accompanied more bass notes then.

“But honestly, Jane, I wouldn’t trade any of it.  Sure, there were times those four made me wonder if I’d have any hair left at all much less go prematurely gray. Times when I thought I was ashamed of them but really was more embarrassed for myself… Good Lord, what colossal pride we parents can sometimes have.”

“What do you mean, sir?”

“Oh, there’s no doubt there were times those boys of mine got into some mischief… most of it very minor.  Some of it frighteningly serious.  But a good portion of the times that riled me the most were times when they were really just trying to figure out who they were as people.  And I didn’t want to see the direction they were growing because it wasn’t the direction I wanted them growing in.  Rather than helping them become who they knew they should be, I’d get angry and we’d lock horns.” A deep sigh.  “Those are times I’m not very proud of myself, believe me.”

“Such as?”

“Oh, my goodness, let me think…”  There is the sound of a teaspoon clinking against his glass, then sipping.  “Well, there was a time I was so angry at Hoss, who normally was the most easy-going, biddable child you could imagine.  Having to punish him was an unusual experience. Generally, a firm word was enough to bring him back into line!”

“I can see that, yes, sir.  Such a gentle, kind man for someone so big.”

“Exactly.   Well, that summer — I think he was just turned thirteen… yes, must have been because it was just before Adam left for college —  I’d lit a fire in the seat of his pants that could have burned down the Ponderosa.” **

“Oh, dear…”

“He’d gone around the mountains and destroyed traplines for some trappers that were being cruel in their treatment of the animals they hunted.  Hoss… well, I think sometimes he prefers the critters he cares for more than human beings… and there are times I don’t think he’s wrong!  He’s not a fool, and knows animals are needed for food, or for their pelts.  But what these men were doing was … well, Hoss would say they were disrespectful of God’s creatures.”

“What a lovely description.  I can almost hear him say that, even as a boy.”

“Yes, Hoss has a depth most people miss.  They don’t look past his size or his clear, easy nature.  Anyway, those trappers were furious, to say the least.  Hoss was six feet tall already at thirteen and looked much older.  He’d got himself into serious trouble and if Adam hadn’t come along just at that time – looking for him, in fact! – Hoss would be shot to death in retaliation.”

“Oh, no!”

“Oh, yes!  Well, luckily he didn’t have to end up with a bullet wound or worse, but that boy didn’t sit comfortably for a week when I was done with him.  And, he had to repair every one of those traps.  I did make sure those hunters were off the Ponderosa, though, and were never permitted to use those vicious things on our land again.” *

“Sir… where did your pride come into it?”

A self-conscious cough can be heard.  “Well, I’m not sure I’d have tanned him quite so hard if I hadn’t felt embarrassed when those two hunters confronted me after Adam and Hoss got back home, the hunters in tow and Adam with a rifle trained on them.  I simply couldn’t believe a son of mine… no, I need to rephrase that.”  A hearty laugh. “I simply couldn’t believe that particular son of mine could do such a thing and put me in such a mortifying position.  It took a little cooling off on my part – and Adam icily setting me straight, I have to admit — to realize that Hoss was right. Those traps were an abomination.  And while he was wrong to destroy someone else’s property and deserved to be punished for it, he didn’t deserve to be so severely punished because I felt humiliated to be called out for his behavior.”

A quiet silence.  “That’s… Mr. Cartwright, that’s a remarkable viewpoint that not many fathers would offer. Most would have stopped at ‘and deserved to be punished for it.’  I understand, more and more, why your sons are such fine men.”

“Well, thank you, but I think a lot that is their own doing.  They’re good boys… ha! There I go again.  Good men.  You can only forge the finest sword out of the finest steel, after all.”

“Maybe so.  But it also takes a skilled craftsman to create the finest sword, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Now, Jane, you’re just going to end up feeding my pride with comments like that one!”  Laughter.

Sounds of both sipping their tea.  “I was so lucky with my sons, and I’m so grateful.   They’ve all taught me so much and gave me far more than I ever could have given them.”

“What would you change if you could?”

A sigh.  “Oh, lots of things.  Probably I’d try harder to let them go.  It was… well, it was so hard for me.  I’d lost so many of the people I loved.  My father… my wives… the thought of losing any of my precious sons made me want them close by as much I could have them there.  It wasn’t so much a problem with Hoss… a more easy-going soul you’ll never meet.  But Adam, for example, was fiercely independent from the cradle, and resented what I thought to be careful, thoughtful discipline and instead was probably more overprotective and confining than I needed to be.”  A sad chuckle.  “How to explain… well, when they were little  if I couldn’t see them, I worried they weren’t safe.  That became a bit smothering for them, I’m afraid.  Adam suffered from that the most.  By the time Joe came along, I’d learned a little more. Eased off some.  How I wish I’d been able to give Adam more freedom without being scared to death of losing him.”

“Are you sure he resented it?”

A low chuckle. “Oh, yes, indeed.  He voiced it a few times, very clearly and in a considerably less than courteous manner, which earned him a more than a few nights of gingerly sitting down to supper on a sore backside.”  A deep breath, and a coughing spell.  A few moments of calming breathing.  “But it was different for Adam, even more so than for Hoss.  Adam was tiny when we started west, and only a few months past his second birthday when his caregiver had to return East.  I had no choice but to lay down tough rules, insist on and enforce their immediate and absolute obedience.  At that time, his very life often depended on it.  As a consequence, when we were no longer in such dangerous straits, I wasn’t able to simply stop using that type of parenting.  My third wife, Marie, was a help in tempering that, but when she died, and I was raising three boys alone, well… sometimes I felt like a needed to be a bit of a martinet just to survive those three.” A deep sigh.  “Yes, if I could change anything, I think I’d try to be less hard on Adam.  He surely suffered the brunt of it.”

“I’m sure he understands now.”

“Oh, I’m sure he does, too.  But it left its mark. He was always a reserved child, and I think he ended up driving his feelings down deeper to avoid causing a problem. He channeled any open, angry rebellion into cold, logical argument.  He knew temper tantrums got him nowhere, but I’ll swear that boy would argue with me even while bent over my knee. Logic became his weapon, and, since he learned to hold his temper better than I could, he wielded it like a master swordsman.  We had some pretty spectacular battles when he was a youth.  But that same intellect is what earned him a scholarship to Harvard… made him an irreplaceable part of the development and running of this ranch when we were starting out.  And what made him need to spread his wings away from us for a time.”

“But he came back?”

“Yes, thankfully.”  Another deep, and grateful, sigh.  “He came back.”

~-oo0oo-~

“Mr. Cartwright, you’re looking a bit pale today.  Is the pain worse?”

“Yes.” A decidedly cranky tone.

A rustle of skirts and the clink of a spoon and bottle.

“I don’t want that stuff.  Makes me sleepy.”

“That’s the point of it.” A mildly amused tone. “The idea is to ease the pain.”

“I know that!” A frustrated grunt.  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t take my bad temper out on you.”

“Tell me, what good comes of you lying there in pain? How does that improve your situation?”

“At least I’m not drugged to the eyeballs!”

“Then I suggest a half dose.  Perhaps just enough to take the worst edge off. Hm?”

Silence.

“Oh, very well then.”

About fifteen minutes later…

A gentle relieved sigh is heard.

“Better now?”

“Yes.  Thank you, Jane.  And… again, I’m sorry.”

“I understand, Mr. Cartwright.  But please trust me.  I will do my best to make sure you’re neither completely sedated all the time, nor in agony.  All right?”

“All right.”

Skirts rustling; the sound of a chair creaking.

“Would you like me to read?  Or would you like to chat?”

“I … I think I’d like to talk.  I want to keep thinking.  This little… experiment of yours lets me keep thinking.”

“Lovely.  Well, let me think, then.  I know!  When you started the Ponderosa, surely you didn’t begin with a thousand square miles, did you?”

“Oh, good lord, no!” Laughter.  “We had a decent sized holding, assuredly, with lakefront access, timberland, grazing…  But we slowly gained more and more land as I was able to afford it.”

“How on earth did you manage that, out here in the wilderness? There was no commerce to be had!”

“By using the wilderness.”

“I… I don’t…”

“Furs, Jane.  My raw furs sold well in European markets; it’s where the bulk of my early wealth came from.  Then, as more and more settlers arrived, and Eagle and Mormon Stations began to rise up, more business opportunities started to present themselves.  I was a partner in a trading post for a while, then when I had enough capital to start my herd, that’s where my growth and expansion came from.  Over the years, we grew through hard-headed business decisions.”

“But never on the wrong side of the law.”

“No, of course not.  But – and this is a difficult concept for many to distinguish – there’s a difference between taking advantage of people and taking advantage of opportunities.  Good business is sometimes hard-hearted.  Finding the morally acceptable position between them can be a bit of a juggling act sometimes.”

“For example?”

“Oh, let me think… Well, one that readily comes to mind was back in … oh, maybe 1860 or ’61.  The railroad put out a contract for a trestle.  This was big money, huge amounts of lumber needed, and I was vying for the contract with another big player from out here… Barney Fuller.  Barney would skate as close to the edge of the law as he could.  And woe betide anyone who gave him a single, solitary inch of ground, because he’d grab it and take a mile.  Hard-headed businessman, and could be a mean son of a … “ Clearing of a throat. “Well, the Ponderosa won the job, and I was relentless.  Pushed both the boys and my crews hard… too hard.  There was an accident on site, and I was injured, but sadly an old man who worked for us was killed.  I blamed myself, and  I… well, I rather lost myself for awhile, turning everything over to the boys to handle.  Finally, I woke up and realized that while my employee had died, I hadn’t yet!” A note of strength in the voice.  “I took  back the reins and got things rolling again, for the boys were doing their best, but Barney was … well, he frankly was playing some dirty pool, causing problems, trying to wrest the contract away from us by tryin to force us to renege on delivery dates.”

“So… The Bull of the Woods had to come out of retirement and once again take control.”

A chuckle.  “Yes, exactly.  But without risking lawsuits, or use scare tactics.  I’ll never forget hearing Barney when I roared my way into the livery, demanding that the owner keep his end of the bargain on the teams I’d contracted for.  He said, ‘Welcome back, Ben.’” A throaty chuckle. “A strong adversary, Barney Fuller.”

“But a worthy opponent, too. And apparently exactly what you needed to find yourself again.”

“Yes.”  The voice is softer, drifting.

“I think you might be able to close your eyes and rest for a bit now, don’t you, Mr. Cartwright?”

“Yes… the pain is much less, now.”

“Good, I’m glad.”

“Jane…”

“Yes, sir?”

“Thanks for pushing me.   You’re a worthy adversary, too.”

“You’re most welcome, sir.”

~-oo0oo-~

“One of the things that’s fascinated me in the last few years is blood.”

“Blood?!”

A laugh. “Not as in ‘blood and guts’… well, not really.  I mean blood lines… inheritance.  Looking at my grandchildren and seeing both their fathers and mothers, and MY family in them, I mean. My own boys, for example. Joseph, now, doesn’t look anything like the Cartwrights.  He’s his mother all over.  My Marie was a beauty… and Joe favors her very much.   Adam resembles his mother a great deal, but side face, he … “ A hoarse chuckle. “Well, maybe it’s vanity, but I think in profile he looks more like me.  Hoss, on the other hand, full on? The shape of his face is me, his brows, his chin.  Nothing like me in coloring, takes after his mother there, but his shape… And then, what startled me was when my grandson, young Patrick, was here a few months ago  – ”

“Oh, yes! The journalist!  What a lovely family they are, he and his bubbly wife and their three children!  Mr. Adam’s eldest son, correct?” **

“That’s right.  When Patrick visited from Ireland with his wife and children, I was so shocked to realize that while I always felt he was the spit and image of Adam, he actually much more resembles my father, Joseph.”

“Oh?  In what ways?”

“His profile, his build… he’s leaner and rangier than Adam, taller.   Adam’s built more like me — or at least like I used to be! — in the upper body, and like his mother’s family, the Stoddards.  Big chest, well-proportioned.  But Pat…  In profile, he’s exactly like my father, startlingly so.  And that long lean body… Long legs starting at his shoulders.”  A drowsy chuckle.  “The thing is, I didn’t see it at all when he was a boy.  But this year when he visited, he was just about the same age my father was when his ship went down, his mid-thirties.  And the resemblance… well, it was overwhelming. I felt like I was twelve years old again and Father was there, just as he’d been when we said goodbye before his last voyage.”  A long, sad sigh.  “Pat’s like him in other ways, too… the Cartwright temper, more’s the pity.  But Patrick seems to have learned a bit of self-control over the last fifteen years or so. I saw it in how he handled his own boys, my great-grandsons… my father, all over again.    It made me wonder if my father-in-law, Abel Stoddard, had noticed the likeness before he died.”

“Oh, did he get to meet his great- grandson?”

“Yes, when Adam and his wife and children moved back to Boston all those years ago, the Captain was still living and got to know them for a time before he passed away.  I just wondered… did Abel see Pat’s resemblance to Father, too, since the Captain and my father had been best friends?  When my father’s ship went down… it was Captain Stoddard who took me on as cabin boy…” The tired voice grew a bit weaker and slower.

There was the sound of bed linens rustling as they were drawn up around the old man.  “Why don’t you have a rest, Mr. Cartwright, and I’ll bring up some tea or coffee for you afterwards?”

“Hmm…Maybe I will, thank you, Jane…”  Sigh.

~-oo0oo-~

“Mr. Cartwright?”  Skirts rustling, then the sound of deft hands smoothing bedclothes.  “Mr. Cartwright, it’s Jane.  I’m sorry to wake you but it’s time for your medicine.”

A disgruntled snort. “Never understood… you medical people… wake a body up out of a dead sleep to give them medicine to rest better!”

A small laugh. “Yes, it does seem to defeat the purpose sometimes, doesn’t it?  Would you like to sit up for awhile?”

“Yes, I might as well… can’t sleep any more anyway.”

Sound of pillows being punched and  fluffed. A few soft grunts of effort. 

“There… enough support for your back?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Breathing is short, panting breaths.

“It… won’t be long now… will it…”

“I’m… I’m sorry, sir, but no.  I don’t imagine so.”

“Just… as well.  Not much… fun…”

A hitched breath, and a shuddering exhale.  “Have you had enough fun, Mr. Cartwright?  Enough to remember now to get you through?”

“What’s.. that?”

“I asked, did you have enough fun in your wonderful, amazing long life to remember now?”

A grudging chuckle.  “Oh, my dear… more fun than you can imagine!”

“Really?” A distinct note of surprise.

“Of course!  The fun of watching… my boys grow up… marry…  The fun of seeing… my grandchildren.”  A hiss of pain. “No, I’m… all right.”  A sigh, and the sound of a body resettling itself.  “We worked… hard, Jane… but we… played hard… too.”

“How so?”

“Oh, raising some hell on…  a Friday night…  Horse races… pitching horse shoes… parties, and dances… sparking women. Enjoying time… with neighbors and friends.  It’s a … good life. A full life.”

“Adam and Hoss plan to be here in another couple of hours.  Hoss is bringing his daughters.”

“Mmmhmm…   I’m glad I saw…  young Pat again.”

“Such an interesting young man.”

“Isn’t… he… Determined.  I get an idea…  of what his mother…  must have been like.  Driven.  Fierce.  And yet… a poet’s soul.  I wish… he and Adam… could find more… common ground.”

‘When he was here, Patrick shared with me that now that he’s a father of his own ‘half-grown hooligans,’ he understands where Adam was coming from more easily.  That he doesn’t blame him for nearly as many of his punishments as he used to… or, as he put it, ‘at least not all of them.’ ” An amused chuckle.

“Did he?  That’s good.”  A sigh.  “I know Adam struggled … trying to find the right way… to raise that boy.  He’s a fine man…”

“Both of them are.”

“…. Mmmhmmm…  Wonder if… Adam feels the same… about me…”

Steady, hitched but calm breathing of sleep.  A skirt rustling, a door closing.

~-oo0oo-~

“… Jane?…”

“I’m here, sir.”

“… the … boys?”

“We’re all here, Pa.” Sorrow and a  quiet dignity apparent in the voice.

“… Adam… so, so proud … of you.  You’re … the ‘old man’ now…  trust your gut…  as much as … your mind, son.  And… let those…  brothers of yours … help you.   Trust them, too … ”

“How could I not, Pa?  You raised them.”

A gasp of a laugh.  “You did … as much with them… as I… “  A brief, panting breath.  “Hoss?”

“Right here beside ya, Pa.”

“… you… always were… the heart… of the Ponderosa … Keep her… as beautiful as when… we found her…”

A shuddering, sobbing breath. “You know I will, Pa.  You know it.”

“Jo…seph….”

“Pa, please don’t… don’t tire yourself out.”

A short laugh, turned into a wet cough.  “No time…  Never stop loving, Joe… Don’t give up… your passion… Your fire … lights up… this whole… ranch…”

The soft sound of a kiss on a papery cheek.

“… Jamie… “

“Y-yes, Pa.”

“So… are you.. glad?” A whisper of humor in the voice.

“Glad, Pa?” Bewilderment.

“… Glad… you came back… wood cutting… and all?”

A gasping laugh then an open sob.  “Yes, sir, I sure am.  You were right… you did have a wealth of affection to give me… and you did.  All of you did. And I love you all for it.  Especially you, Pa.”

Silence falls, but for the rasping breath, struggling to haul itself in, and out… in, and out… in, and out…

Until the silence is complete.

~-oo0oo-~

The sound of pages turning, and soft chuckles.

“I really can’t believe it… This is, well, this is truly incredible, Miss Dearford.”

“Oh, please, Adam, just call me Jane, do.”

“Well, then, Jane.  You say he told you all these stories?!”  More pages turning.

“Yes, sir, all over these last six months.  Stories of his life, from the time he was a little boy in Massachusetts, through his father’s death, then his own going to sea with your grandfather.  Falling in love with your mother and heading west with you.  Meeting his wife, Inger, and welcoming Hoss.  His surprise at completely falling in love with Marie and bringing her home, then the joy and fear surrounding Joe’s birth, and the great sadness at the death of your baby sister, too small to survive her birth.  The building of the Ponderosa, through all the history that this area has seen.  Meeting his grandchildren… his great-grandchildren, some here close by, the others in Ireland.  He wanted them to know their history.  So, I thought I’d write them down for him.  I was sure you’d know what to do with them.”

A clearing of a throat, a sniff.  “I… I think I’ll have them printed and bound.  These shouldn’t be lost.  I knew some of them, but not all.  And … well, I know my children, and my nieces and nephews, not to mention my brothers, will love reading them.”

“I’m glad, sir.  Goodbye.”

A stir of skirts.

“Jane.”

“Sir?”

“Why?”

Silence for a moment. A rustle again of skirts returning.   “When you nurse those who are at the end of their lives, I’ve found the most important thing for them to know is that they mattered.  What they felt.  What they thought.  And that their stories shouldn’t be lost.  I did this first when my own father was passing.  After he was gone, I found it immeasurably comforting to read his words over and over… it made him real again for me, present.  I … well, I thought it would be a good thing to do for the families of my patients.”

“I… thank you, Jane.  I’m more grateful that you’ll ever know.  Now his story will never be forgotten.”

“One look at the Ponderosa would do that, Adam.  This just makes it… personal.  Goodbye, sir.”

“God bless you, Jane.”

“And you, Mr. Cartwright.”

THE END

* Claire Denton, Hoss’ wife, is first introduced in “The Spark,” a short story I’d written for the 1999 40th Anniversary Bonanza Convention Short Story Anthology, and she is further developed in the trilogy of stories Vicki Christian and I wrote together: “The New Hand,” “Duty Bound” and “Full Circle.”

** references a subplot in the excellent story by Vicki Christian, “Hard Lessons.”

*** Patrick is introduced in my story, “As Ye Sow”