Summary: Little Joe and his friends just wanted to see the new painting in The Red Dog saloon before the ladies of the town could have it destroyed, and all they needed was a watertight plan.

 Rating: T/PG 13      Word count: 4,414 

A Lesson in Art Appreciation

by DJK

 

“Little Joe, have you ever seen a female with no clothes on?” 

 

Little Joe Cartwright raised up on his elbows and looked at his friend.  “You mean no clothes at all, nothing?” 

 

“Not a stitch.”  Tuck’s inquiry was clear.  Little Joe thought about saying he had, but that would be a lie, and Joe seldom lied to his friends.  He sat up and turned in the wagon bed to face his friend. 

 

“Nah.  There ain’t ever many females on the Ponderosa and what with knowing there are so many menfolk around, the ones that have been were real careful to only get naked behind locked doors.” 

 

“What about you, Mitch?”   

 

“No, the onliest female around our place is my ma, and she’s a real private lady.”  Mitch gave his friends a challenging glare.   

 

“Of course, your ma’s a lady.”  Little Joe placated.  Actually, he had both admiration and affection for Emma Devlin as she always treated him maternally. “What about you, Tuck?”  

 

“My mama’s a lady too.”  He bowed up but then deflated and sighed.  “Only female I’ve seen without clothes is my baby sister, and she isn’t but five.” 

 

“Why are ya asking about seeing naked females?”   

 

“Just wondering.” 

 

“Must be a reason you’ve suddenly started wondering?” 

 

“Well, I guess I’ve been wondering about it since I heard my mama and Widow Werther talking.” 

 

Little Joe’s brow furrowed.  “Your ma and the Widow Werther were talking about seeing naked women?” 

 

“No, not about seeing naked women!”  Tuck huffed.  He rolled his eyes.  “The widow and my mama were talking the other day when the widow came visiting.”   

 

“And you were eavesdropping.” Mitch made the statement a verbal poke. 

 

“No.” Joe and Mitch both gave Tuck raised eyebrows of disbelief.   “No, really, well, not at first anyway.  At first, I was just hearing things now and then through the open window, but then…” 

 

“Then what?” 

 

“Then I heard Widow Werther say the word naked, and I started paying some attention. You would have too!” 

 

Little Joe shrugged and leaned forward.  “Probably.  Who did she say was naked?” 

 

“Nobody.  She wasn’t talking about a real person. At least not around here.   Of course, there would have been a real naked lady somewhere but not anybody we’d know.” 

 

Mitch rolled his eyes.  “I ain’t even sure I know what in blazes you’re talking about.” 

 

“Well, if you’d quit interrupting…” 

 

“Just get on with the telling, Tuck, and you hush, Mitch.  Now, what were they talking about exactly.” 

 

“The picture that The Red Dog just put up.  The widow thinks it’s an abomination and an afront to every decent woman in the town.  It’s a painting of a naked woman lying full out and large as life showing all her lady parts.  She said it’s six feet long.” 

 

“She’s seen it!” 

 

“Well, no, but she heard about it from them that has.  Maybe your brothers have, Joe.” 

 

Little Joe snorted.  “They wouldn’t tell me if they had.  You know how they are about me being too young for most anything interesting.” 

 

“Yea.  Golly, do you think it’s true?”  Mitch’s tone declared his desire that it was. 

 

“I don’t think the Widow Werther is one to be funnin’ about paintings of naked women.”  Little Joe shook his head.  “Golly.” 

 

“It’s true.  They talked about it a good bit.  The widow wants to get the ladies organized and have them see to it that the painting is destroyed or at least put some place folks can’t see it, but she said the sheriff told her that there ain’t no law against painted ladies not having on clothes, not even a town ordinance, so if Ted  Hoolihan thinks a painting of a naked lady will bring in revenue, then he can hang one up and hope men come in to gaze on it as they drink their beers.” 

 

“Revenue?” 

 

“That’s what she said.  I looked it up.  It means money, profits.” 

 

“My brothers hardly ever go in The Red Dog.  They say that Hoolihan waters the beer.”  Little Joe appeared to consider the situation.  “They might go in to see a painting like that though, so Hoolihan may be right about that revenue business.” 

 

“I’d pay to just sit and drink plain water.”  Mitch’s statement was laced with frustration.  “Don’t ‘spect he’ll let anybody our age in at all.” 

 

“Naw.  City ordinance says nobody younger than fourteen can stay in a saloon.”  Little Joe sighed.  That’s almost a year I’ll have to wait.” 

 

Mitch let out a great guffaw.  “Your Pa ain’t gonna let you go alone to a saloon when you’re fourteen, and I can’t see him, Adam, or even Hoss taking you to one with paintings of naked ladies.” 

 

Little Joe bristled.  “I got more chance than you.  Your ma ain’t gonna allow even your pa to take you- should he even want to- not when you’re fourteen, not when your twenty.” 

 

Mitch simply snorted and started to pout.  Joe was right; he would still have to sneak around to go to a saloon like that even when he was twenty-one. 

 

“Well, my papa won’t be taking me; that’s for sure since he won’t be going himself.  He has his reputation to think of.”  Tuck slumped against the side of the wagon bed and sighed.  “It wouldn’t be as good as seeing the real thing, but it would be better than nothing.” 

 

“You don’t think…” Mitch paused as Little Joe began shaking his head not only to indicated that they had no hope of seeing the painting but to warn him of Adam and Hoss’s approach. 

 

“Howdy, boys.  How are things going with you and yours?” 

 

Mitch and Tuck both informed Hoss they and their families were doing well as they scrambled down from the wagon.   

 

“Are we headed home straight off?”  Little Joe addressed his inquiry to Adam. 

 

“Well, we should be.”  Adam waited for his little brother’s protest, but none came.  He felt Hoss bump his shoulder, shrugged, and smiled.  “But I don’t think staying just long enough for a cool sarsaparilla would be a problem.  How about I treat the four of you boys?”   

 

“Why not!”  Hoss, having caught the reference to his age, slapped his brother’s back with enough force to rock the man. 

 

“Yea!”  The shout erupted from three young throats as the boys took off running.  Adam shook his head and followed more sedately with Hoss. 

 

***** 

 

“Adam.”  His brother’s voice came from behind Adam’s head. 

 

“What, Little Joe?”    Adam did not bother to turn his head but kept his eyes on the road. 

 

“You saw lots of paintings and statues, and other art stuff when you was back East, didn’t ya?” 

 

“Umm, I suppose I did, at least compared to what is available here in the territory.” 

 

Little Joe made his voice softer and more conspiratorial.  “Did any of the folks in that art ever not have any clothes on?  You’ve said before how some of them Greeks and Romans and such didn’t wear much of nothing sometimes.” 

 

Adam cleared his throat and exchanged a glance with Hoss.  “Well, it’s true that the Greek civilization, the Roman too, had a different view of nudity.  They thought highly of the beauty of the human form and depicted it often in their art.” 

 

“So, you’re saying that some of the art you saw had naked people in it?”  Little Joe had learned enough vocabulary from his brother to follow Adam’s thoughts even when he was not familiar with all the words used. 

 

“Yes, Joseph, some of those depicted were unclothed, but that was more likely to be gods, goddesses, and other mythical beings than mortals.” 

 

“And some of them mythicals were female?” 

 

“Not mythicals, mythical beings.” 

 

“Mythical beings then.  Some of them were female and naked?” 

 

Adam sighed.  “Yes, some of them were naked.” 

 

“And anybody could look at them naked women as much as they wanted?” 

 

“Well, yes, but…” Adam stopped the horses and turned to look at his baby brother.  “Joseph, looking at classical art, well, there’s a difference.” 

 

“What kind of difference?” 

 

“Well, umm, there’s a certain refinement, an elevation of the subject, a different kind of appreciation…”  Adam rolled his eyes at the confusion on Joe’s face and the chortled laughter seeping from Hoss.  “Just take my word for it; there is a difference.” 

 

“And nobody, even ladies like Widow Werther, think that classical art is an abomination even when folks is naked?” 

 

“Well, there may be a few overly Puritanical people, but the majority would never consider a classical painting an abomination.” 

 

Hoss cleared his throat.  “Any special reason you’re bringing the Widow Werther into the conversation, Short Shanks?” 

 

“Well…” 

 

The tumblers rolled into place in Adam’s mind.  “What did you hear in town?” 

 

Little Joe shrugged.  “Guess I did hear something about a painting in The Red Dog and the widow wanting it gone.” 

 

“I might have known.  Joseph, the painting in The Red Dog…” 

 

“You’ve seen it!” 

 

Adam ignored Little Joe’s exclamation.  “That is of no concern to you.  Suffice to say, you Joseph Francis Carwright, will not be gazing upon that particular piece of art for many years to come.  Many, many years.” 

 

“Yeah, little brother, Pa’d have apoplexy at the thought.”  Hoss raised his finger and shook it beneath Little Joe’s nose.  “Don’t you go getting no notions.  Adam and me ain’t gonna cover for ya over this: no how, no way.” 

 

Little Joe snorted.  “Why!”  The wailed syllable grated on both his brother’s ears. 

 

“Just know that we both stand with Pa on this subject and be forewarned.   Ted Hoolihan knows that the ladies are already on the warpath.  The last thing he wants is them hearing that he has allowed any innocent boys of your tender years to enter and gaze.  They might take it into their heads to go Carrie Nation and take an axe to his investment.   Take heed and spread the word to your friends: The Red Dog is off-limits to anyone under fourteen and most likely to many boys older than that.” 

 

Little Joe gave another snort, glared at Adam and then Hoss, and settled down to pout.  By the time they arrived at the house, his brother’s warning had become a challenge. 

 

***** 

 

“Of course I want to see it, but I want to survive the seeing.”  Tuck sighed.   “I just don’t see how.” 

 

“Dang that Widow Werther.  She’s the reason Hoolihan has Old Jack Sutter sitting outside the batwings guarding the place.  Can’t even dash in for a quick look.  Old Jack knows every boy for twenty miles around.  Even if you made it in and caught a glimpse before Hoolihan tossed ya out, word would get to your folks, probably before you did.” A shudder ran down the backs of all three boys. 

 

“I want more than a glance anyway, so…”  Little Joe’s voice stilled as his mind continued to formulate and reject ideas. 

 

“Maybe we could sneak in after closing?”  

 

“We ain’t gonna see much in the dark, Tuck.”  Mitch’s voice was harsh with frustration. 

 

“We could maybe light…” 

 

“More likely than not somebody’d see the light and come running.  Probably the sheriff or deputy.  We’d never run fast enough to not be recognized.”  Little Joe had no doubt that Roy Coffee could recognize his retreating form from blocks away.  He could just hear the man: “Now, Ben, I hate to tell ya…” and shuddered again. 

 

“I just thought maybe the whitewash Hoolihan’s using to stop folks peeking in the window would be enough…” 

 

“No, the light’s dimmer, but you can still see it some in the dark.” 

 

“Are you sure?” 

 

“Yeah, Martin Cooley said something to Hoss about it.  Every hand on the Ponderosa has been to The Red Dog since that painting’s been up.” 

 

“Oh, well.”  Tuck shrugged and then slumped against the church’s foundation. “That’s that then.” 

 

Little Joe’s fingers snapped.  “No, no, it ain’t.  Sun rises before six these days.  The saloons don’t open until nine.   That gives us at least two hours, maybe more, before anyone would be around.  Two hours to get in, take a long look, and get out with none the wiser.” 

 

“Hoolihan and some of his girls sleep upstairs.” 

 

“So, we’ll have to look quietly.  A body doesn’t have to make noise to see.”  Little Joe grinned. 

 

“But getting in?”  Tuck had straightened with anticipation but hesitated to totally embrace the idea. 

 

“I’ll bet on Joe getting us in!”  Mitch had firsthand knowledge of his friend’s lockpicking skills. 

 

“It’s worth investigating the possibilities.  Depends on how Hoolihan locks up the back door.”  The boys nodded and then exchanged looks as they heard their parents calling. 

 

“I’ll check it out.”  Being the only one living in town, Tuck knew he would have the most opportunity.  The boys heard their names called again.  “We better go.  I’ll tell you at school.” 

 

“Good man!”  Little Joe clapped Tuck on the back, and then all three boys took off running. 

 

***** 

 

“Hoolihan padlocks the doors back and front from the inside, so that’s that.  You can’t pick a lock from the other side of the door.”  Tuck shrugged.  Mitch’s fist hit the ground. 

 

“Dang!” 

 

“Wait.  Tuck, is there a window in the back?” 

 

“Yeah, but it’s small and high up.” 

 

“Up high ain’t nothing.  Is it too small for me?” 

 

Mitch gave Little Joe’s frame a once-over.  “Probably not.” 

 

“It’s not just a pane; it opens?” 

 

“Yea, it’s a full window, but it locks.” 

 

Little Joe gave a dismissive wave of his hand.   

 

“But getting all three of us…” 

 

“We only need to get me through the window.  I’ll pick the padlock and let you two in.  Then the door will be open if we have to get out fast.” 

 

“Yeah!” Excitement lit Mitch’s eyes.  “When are we…” 

 

“Slow down.  This plan needs to be the best ever.  Adam says: ‘it’s all in the details.’ We’re gonna take the time to go over all the details and make this plan watertight.” 

 

“Yea, Mitch, Joe’s right.  That painting isn’t going anywhere.” 

 

“It is if Widow Werther has her way.” 

 

“Mitch!  The widow’s been working on that for days and days. It ain’t likely that anything will happen fast.  ‘Sides, we ain’t gonna take forever to plan.  A school night wouldn’t be the best time anyways, so we got until the weekend to go over things.” 

 

Mitch huffed.  “Well, okay if we’re gonna plan let’s get to planning.” 

 

The boys spent every lunch and recess discussing and refining their plan. 

 

***** 

 

The predawn of Saturday morning found three bootless boys standing in the dark behind The Red Dog.  It had been decided that socks were less likely to make reveling noise.   Moving boxes or barrels was also seen as too likely to cause notice, so Tuck and Mitch stood ready to act as supports.  The boys did not even dare to whisper.  They knew all the planned moves by heart- had practiced some of them- and worked in silent concert.  Little Joe stood on his friend’s shoulders, braced by their hands around his ankles, and used his pocketknife to open the window’s lock without any problem.  Afterall, he had opened window’s that way before.  He held his breath then, but the window did not stick; it slid open easily.  He was over the sash and dropping lightly to the floor in seconds.  A few minutes later, the back door opened slightly.  Mitch and then Tuck slipped inside.  The boys exchanged thumbs-ups and headed for the main room.  Outside the sun had begun to rise.  The inside of the saloon was still black though, so the boys moved slowly and carefully.  Finally, they reached their goal.  That a painting hung on the back wall was just barely discernable.  The boys stretched out on their stomachs facing their prize and waited for sunlight to revel all. 

 

When the morning light finally illuminated the painting, the boys, almost as one, rose to their knees, sucked in great breaths of air, and then forgot to breathe. Their eyes search every centimeter of the painting with a focus none of them had ever achieved before.  Transfixed by the sight, they failed to hear the light footsteps that descended from the top floor.  When the white robed figure stopped at the bottom of the stair, she spoke. 

 

“Well, now what do we have here?”  Feminine laughter rose to the rafters.  Three startled boys scrabbled to their feet.  “Boys, boys.  Naughty, naughty, naughty!” Fannie Mae laughed again. 

 

“Uh, uh…”  The boys were frozen in shock.  Fannie Mae’s robe was thin cotton and clung to her body. 

 

Hearing heavy footsteps above, a sly grin spread over the saloon girl’s red lips.  From the landing above, Ted Hoolihan caught sight of the boys and roared out an obscenity that Tuck had never even heard before.  His shout finally set the boys in motion. 

 

“Run!”  They set off to the back door, scrambling and pushing each other in their haste.  A large crock of molasses fell from the shelf next to the door. The shattered pottery and its sticky contents impeded Ted Hoolihan’s pursuit, and he gave up with a growl. The boys ran through the town, darting behind buildings and down alleys. When they reached Tuck’s house, they stopped in the bushes beneath his window, panting and assessing if anyone in the house was stirring. 

 

“Hoolihan don’t know any of us.” 

 

“He may … we’ll just deny everything.  Folks can make mistakes.  Mistaken identity’s real.” 

 

“Yeah, at breakfast time we’ll come out of your bedroom natural like we been there all night.  Your folks will say we all spent the night right in this house like we were meant to.  They will, won’t they?”  Mitch searched Tuck’s face for assurance. 

 

“Um, yeah, yeah they will unless… um, if they already know we sneaked out, Papa will be waiting right there in my room.” 

 

Little Joe swallowed the lump in his throat.  “Best get in that room.  Cross your fingers, fellows.” 

 

Tuck’s bedroom was empty, and each boy sighed in relief. When Tuck’s mother called them to breakfast, they came out of the room with smiles on their faces.  

 

***** 

 

As the last hymn ended, Little Joe felt his father’s hand settle on his shoulder.  He accepted the fact that he would not be joining his friends until after a proper exit and polite remarks to the preacher.  He remained at his father’s side while the Cartwrights made a slow family departure.  Just as his pa turned from speaking to Reverend Hawker, he heard a familiar voice. 

 

“Could I have a word with ya, Ben?” 

 

“Sure, Roy.  Little Joe, don’t go too far, we…” 

 

“Um, we’ll be needing the boy.  Let’s step inside.” 

 

“Of course.”  Ben and his two older sons both gave Little Joe an inquiring glare.  Little Joe dropped his chin as his stomach fell to his knees.  When they entered the church vestibule, Joe saw both Mitch and Tuck along with their parents and Ted Hoolihan, and his stomach settled at his feet. 

 

“That’s him; that’s the third one; that’s the three that broke into my place Saturday early.  Caused some damage; they did.” 

 

“We did not!”  Little Joe’s shout was righteously indignant as he was refuting the fact that they had caused damage.  The adults present assumed he was denying the entire episode. 

 

“Don’t you lie, boy! I saw you with my own eyes.  Fannie Mae saw ‘em too.  She’ll tell you.” 

 

Roy Coffee straightened to his full height and motioned the three boys to stand together in front of him.  

 

“Each of ya has been taught not to lie, so I’m just going to ask plain.  Were you in The Red Dog saloon anytime Saturday morning?”  He watched the three boys shift nervously and glance sideways at the others.  “There’s more than one Bible about.  Should I…” 

 

“We were.”  Little Joe’s voice was barely a whisper. 

 

“The three of you?” 

 

“Yes, sir.”  All three boys managed to answer.  All three father’s gave various growls of disapproval.  Tuck’s mother gasped. 

 

“Do I need to ask why?”  The sheriff’s voice had grown even more steel-edged. 

 

“Why they was planning to rob…” 

 

The fathers all bowed up and shot daggers at Ted Hoolihan.   Sherriff Coffee, who knew the three boys and their families, growled at Hoolihan. 

 

“Quiet man!  I’ll do the talking!  Boys?” 

 

“We just wanted to see the painting.”  Tuck spoke and then ventured a look back at his mother. 

 

“We just looked.  That’s all we did.”  Mitch looked over his shoulder at his parents.  “That’s all we did.  Honest, Ma!” 

 

“We didn’t do no damage!”  Little Joe’s voice again held indignation. 

 

The sheriff looked at Ted Hoolihan.  “What damage can you prove?” 

 

The saloon owner looked at the faces around him before answering.  “Well, a crock, a huge crock, of molasses was broken and ruined.  It was expensive molasses.” 

 

“No doubt.”  Adam’s interjection was laced with sarcasm; nothing in The Red Dog was of expensive quality.  Hoss snorted agreement.  Ben sent his older sons a glare. 

 

“The molasses will be paid for.”  Little Joe could hear the anger in his father’s voice.  

 

“Anything else?” Sheriff Coffee wanted the whole episode concluded swiftly. 

 

“Well, well, nothing costing money.”  Hoolihan drew himself up.  “I want them boys seen to proper.  I can’t have…” 

 

“The boys will be seen to by their fathers.  No more official time is going to be wasted over a childish prank such as this.  Come on, Hoolihan.  You were warned that painting would cause trouble.” 

 

“My money!” 

 

Ben took out his wallet, pulled out a bill, and thrust it at Hoolihan.  “This should cover the molasses and the crock.” 

 

Hoolihan snatched the money out of Ben’s hand.  “Keep your boy out of my place!  All your boys!  None of you Cartwrights are welcome in any place I own.” 

 

Adam leaned closed to Hoss and spoke only for his brother’s ears.  “As if we would dirty our boots.” 

 

 “Adam, you and Hoss take Joseph to our buggy and keep him there.” Ben turned his back to his sons and looked at the other fathers.  It was silently agreed that the fathers would be discussing their mutual problem.  Little Joe followed his brothers from the church.  Mitch and Tuck were led out by their mothers. 

 

***** 

 

Little Joe heard his door open, and footsteps cross to his bed.  He had learned to distinguish the footsteps of each man in the Cartwright home and knew his brother Adam had come to speak to him.   He kept his face turned to the wall and tensed. 

 

“You mad?” 

 

“No.  Do you think I should be?” 

 

“You told me not to.” 

 

“I warned you not to.”  Little Joe opened his eyes.  “Besides, Pa was angry enough for three men.  There’s no reason for me to waste the energy.” 

 

“I ain’t never been in such trouble.”  Little Joe moaned and buried his head in his pillow. 

 

Adam rolled his eyes. “I assume Pa laid down the law before he busted your tail?” 

 

“Yea.” 

 

“And you know such sneaky and deceitful behavior is wrong, totally unacceptable?” 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

“And that Pa has already forgiven you even if you still have a list of chores to complete to pay for that molasses?”  Adam managed to keep amusement out of his voice. 

 

“Pa paid too much for that molasses!” 

 

Adam settled beside his brother on the bed.  “He was in no position to decker.  Technically, what you boys did was breaking and entering, a crime.” 

 

“So, Pa mentioned.  We didn’t think about it like that.” 

 

“You should have.”  Adam sighed and rolled his eyes again.  “You put some thought into your plan.” 

 

“Not enough.”  Joe sighed.   

 

“Remember that the next time.  No amount of planning can make doing something wrong okay.”   

 

“Won’t be a next time.” 

 

“Good, then my sermon can end.”  Adam gave Little Joe’s leg a back-handed slap.  “Can I count on you staying out of trouble for a few weeks?” 

 

“Years! Years and years.”  Little Joe raised up on his elbows.  “You’re being awfully… well, you’re being…” 

 

“I’m being your brother.”  Adam looked into Joe’s eyes.  “Not elder brother, just your brother.” 

 

“Like you would with Hoss?” 

 

“Yes, more like I would with Hoss.  I… well, I could have, should have…” 

 

“What?” 

 

Adam sighed.  “I have a couple of books in my room with expensive illustrations.  One has illustrations of art from the Greek and Roman civilizations.” 

 

“Some of that classical art?” 

 

“Yes.”  Adam shifted and cleared his throat.  “That painting in Hoolihan’s saloon…” 

 

“You’ve seen it?” 

 

“Yes, and before you ask, so has Hoss.  Curiosity can cause an irritating itch.  Anyway, that painting is coarse and vulgar.  The artist had little skill and no talent.  It may not be an abomination, but it is an afront to the women of the town, to any woman.  It debases them and leering at it debases the man.” 

 

“Oh.”  The syllable was a soft exclamation.  Joe drew in a breath.  “Those classical ones, there not like that?” 

 

“No, they are not, as you shall see.” 

 

“What!”  Little Joe rose to his knees. 

 

“We will look at them together.  I should have realized… well, it would have been better if I had showed them to you in the first place.” 

 

Little Joe heard the self-recrimination in his brother’s voice.  “I still might’ve… curiosity gave us all a mighty fierce itch, Adam.” 

 

“Still…”  Adam tousled Little Joe’s hair and then grew stern.  “My books shall remain in my room, you…” 

 

“Would never mess with your books.  I know you’d kill me.”  Little Joe’s conviction reassured his brother. 

 

“Not actually, out of difference to Pa and Hoss, but I would make you wish I had.” 

 

“I know.”  Little Joe drew in a deep breath.  “Mitch and Tuck don’t have any big brothers, well, to teach them the right of it.” 

 

“They have fathers.” 

 

“Would you want Pa…” 

 

Adam shuddered.  “Okay, okay.  Pa did teach you to share.  Next time they are allowed here, I shall conduct… shall we say an art appreciation class.” 

 

“Do I have to wait?” 

 

“No.” Adam rose.  “I’ve a feeling you could benefit from some private tutoring.”  He smiled.  “Pa wants you at the supper table.”  Little Joe moaned.  “Hoss already has a cushion on your chair.” 

 

Little Joe smiled up at his brother and wondered when Adam would begin his instruction. 

The End 

 

Note:  This story was written in response to the Chaps and Spurs Challenge 2025 Quarter 2. The required words that guided the story were:  Naked, Abomination, Revenue, Civilization, Molasses