SUMMARY: Adam’s journal entry for the day involving Lotta Crabtree’s role in snaring a Cartwright in Virginia City at the behest of Alpheus Troy.  Written for the 2025 “Pernell Roberts’ Birthday Week” activities.

RATING: K/G

WORD COUNT:  1,901 words

Adam’s Journal – A Rose for Lotta

September 12, 1859

Honestly, this day has felt longer than most full weeks.  It started with a VERY long morning dealing with mundane nonsense, including a couple of hours in getting the books to balance, then missing lunch altogether due to a problem with supplies not being in yet at Cass’ store – as reported by Jake Weber after sending two men into town to get them – and then having to figure out how to stretch what we had to get the work done that was needed, and finally being irritated with baby brother…not an unusual circumstance, unfortunately.  I do love the little scamp, but there are times he makes me want to spit nails… that or smack him right in the mouth.  And on days when I’m tired, hungry and irritated seem to be the days that Joe goes out of his way to rile the bejeezus out of me.  Maybe it’s just that at seventeen he’s as insufferable as all kids his age are, I don’t know.  I just know that unfortunately, when I finally DO lose my temper with him, I tend to end up having to eat my words, damn his hide.  Today was one of those days.

This afternoon, Pa and I had ridden down to one of the bottomland meadows overlooking the southwest tip of the Ponderosa – this one with a prime view of Lake Tahoe in all its glory! – almost the same place we’d seen first when arriving here.  We were supposed to meet up there with Joe, who was bringing down 1000 head from the high pasture in the north end with eight of the hands.  Not a single cow to be seen, nor Joe himself with the report on the drive down, drat the boy’s miserable hide.  When I irritably wanted to know where he was and – more importantly – where my report on how many head had made it through was, Pa did his usual song and dance of how Joe is just a boy, “not a man like you.”  And when I pointed out that boy or not, Joe had to step up and do his share, Pa wasn’t exactly laughing at me, but he raised his eyebrow the way he often does and said it looked like I’d have to go find him to get it.  Irritated doesn’t begin to cover it!

I got back to the house, found Hoss busy doing farrier duty, and strode into the house to find our sweet baby brother. dancing around the great room with Marie’s epee.  Good Lord Almighty!

We had… erm…. words.  I’m not proud of how I dealt with him, to be honest.  I admit to being less than patient when I’m – as I say – tired, hungry and irritated. And that boy’s got a mouth on him… well, at least one as big as my own.

It’d been months since our last go-around, and Joe and I got into a good scuffle, I’m sorry to say.  Hoss finally had come in and was trying to sort it out, sending Joe flying over the furniture and me into the grandfather clock by the door.  And to give him credit, Joe did apologize.  And of course, I put my foot in it. Again. Miserable little whelp.  He’d brought the whole branch of the herd down by noon without losing a single head. Smart as a whip, cocky as hell… and so, so capable.  Brat.  But I was proud of him, too.  Lord, but how he gets me going!

We were going to end the afternoon working on breaking several wild horses Joe, George Baker, Lefty Martin and Bo Henderson had rounded up.  Right after I’d lost my seat on Thunder, a particular favorite of Hoss’, we saw a carriage speeding hell bent for leather right through our property. Far too close to the ranch house to serve any of us, least of all Pa.  We mounted immediately and chased it, only to find out it contained a young woman… a very beautiful young woman.

She was quite extraordinarily beautiful, in fact, with raven black hair and brows, big, beautiful blue-gray eyes, a figure like the Venus de Milo, and a spirit that reminded me astonishingly of my stepmother, Marie. And who should she turn out to be, but the actress Miss Lotta Crabtree!  If Hoss had been wearing wooden dentures, they’d have fallen right out of his mouth the way his jaw dropped.

Well, to be honest, right around this point I started to smell a rat.  No one from Virginia City, as the carriage driver was, could have mistaken, truly, where they were, but he insisted they’d lost their way, been turned around.  Horsefeathers.  But a lady is a lady, after all, and while Joe was falling over himself to ooze Southern hospitality and charm, I managed to intercept him and assist Miss Crabtree up onto Cochise so that Joe could take her to the ranch house to freshen herself and rest… at Pa’s request, of course.  So, Joe took Miss Crabtree to the ranch house while, Hoss, Pa and I repaired the carriage.  Next thing we know, Hop Sing is driving a wagon like all the devils in hell were after him, carrying on that Joseph had taken Miss Crabtree in the buggy into town. Alone.

And the penny dropped.  Immediately, I whirled and cornered the carriage driver demanding to know what he knew, and between Hoss, Pa and me we got him to admit that – sure enough – he’d been hired by that dog Alpheus Troy, owner of the Yellow Jacket, to drive the lady around our place.  That could only mean one thing; Miss Crabtree had been sent to lure one of us into Virginia City.  No surprise that Joe was the one who was caught up in her web!  That kid never could see danger for what it was.

Between us, Pa directed Hoss and me to round up as many men as we could, and we’d meet up at the Sazerac to find our errant little brother.

Late that night, after scouring one end of Virginia City to the other, Pa, Hoss and I barged into the Sazerac and found Troy and his cronies as well as gunman Langford Poole, who had tried to goad Pa into a gunfight.  Poole had twelve notches to his credit.  Knowing Pa would never back down – damn him! – I stepped up and clearly stated any argument Poole had was with me, not my father, and cleared my jacket around my back to free my hands and my holster. I could feel Pa’s eyes just about boring through my skull, but I knew Hoss had my back and I’d handle Pa when I was through… at least I hoped I would. I got lucky that night; his shot went wide, and I winged him.  Pa managed to get out of Troy that Miss Crabtree was at the International House.  Pa and Hoss stood watch while I went over there to track down my youngest brother.

When I got to her room and found her trying to right the furniture after what had obviously been some kind of a set-to, I got out of her the plan had been to lure one of us into town, just as I’d figured.  I’m afraid I got a bit rough with her, but as much as that boy can make me want to shake him until his teeth rattle, I love that kid. Anyone who so much as thinks about hurting him had best run for the hills before I got my hands on them.  Of course, that wouldn’t stop me from letting him have it myself when I saw him next for being such a blamed fool! Anyway, after a certain amount of threatening, I left her and started hunting again, but I had no luck.

I did find Cochise at the livery stable, though, and went back to the Sazerac to bring Pa and Hoss up to date with what I knew.  Finally, after an incredibly long night, just as dawn was breaking, we went down “C” Street and heard the strains of a harmonica playing inside a small little restaurant… one of Joe’s favorites, I realized grimly.  And then we heard Joe’s voice… laughing, the little varmint!

We went in and found him waltzing with Lotta Crabtree… who was remarkably fetching in a black and yellow number.  So much so that I could barely take my eyes off from her.  The way he yelled, I thought Pa was going to pull off his belt and give Joe a tanning then and there, but the closest he got to it was a pretty solid thwack! on the boy’s rear as Joe sped by him to the door when Pa ordered him out the door to his horse.

But I really wasn’t paying much attention to baby brother once we gratefully knew he was in one piece.  I have to be honest and admit it: all I had eyes for was Lotta.  She was absolutely exquisite. As I heard Pa head for the door after Joe, I felt a rude, hard nudge from behind push me into the room toward Miss Crabtree – Hoss really is a strong son of a gun! – and I found myself drawn to her like iron filings to a magnet.  Despite myself, I removed my hat, looked down at her for a moment, then pulled her into a pretty nice kiss, if I do say so myself.  Then I smiled at her, and sauntered out the door… and by God, I knew she was watching my every step as I left.  Pa, Hoss and Joe were already mounted when I came out and we headed on home as the sun was rising over the buildings of Virginia City.  I touched my hat to her as she stood at the door watching us leave.

On the ride home, Pa made it clear that Joe was lucky he wasn’t a year younger, or he’d be finishing up this morning with a necessary talk in the barn, too sore to sit a horse for a good week.  After the tongue-lashing he got as we rode home, added to the list as long as his arm of extra chores he had coming and the fact that he was confined to the ranch for the rest of the month… well, let’s just say I think he’d rather have had the tanning!  Hoss and I grinned at each other watching his face fall lower and lower as Pa lit into him, and then I shook my head.  I knew Joe. He’d bounce back by supper time, getting himself into some other dumb trouble by the end of the week.  My baby brother’s astonishing resilience never ceases to amaze me. And – I had to admit it – made me proud. He’s quite a kid.

Anyway, when I got home, I was too wound up to sleep, so it made sense to get my daily journal entry in while everything was still fresh in my mind.  And, since part of Joe’s punishment was doing Hoss’ and my morning chores as well as his own for the next week, I could afford to sleep in a little bit.

Maybe tonight I just might ride into town and catch Lotta Crabtree’s next show… but I might have to pull a Joe-type stunt to get around Pa in order to do so!