Summary: Unrequited affection, if not actually love, permeates this prequel tale of the Cartwrights as a church social becomes an unexpected source of disappointment and frustration for some, and wonder for others.  Written for the 2025 Ponderosa Paddlewheel Poker Tournament.
Rating: K+/T
Word Count: 13,275

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“Unrequited love is the infinite curse of a lonely heart.”
–Christina Westover

 

 

What a friend we have in Jesus,
All our sins and griefs to bear!
What a privilege to carry
Everything to God in prayer!
Oh, what peace we often forfeit,
Oh, what needless pain we bear,
All because we do not carry
Everything to God in prayer!

 

The final hymn swelled, and those members of the congregation standing near the Cartwright pew enjoyed hearing Ben Cartwright’s oldest son Adam’s clear, true baritone floating below his littlest brother Joseph’s tenor and Rob Middleton’s five daughters’ voices in the next pew behind theirs.

Directly behind Adam was the eldest Middleton daughter Margaret, a beautiful young lady of 20 years, with warm brown hair and dark brown eyes.  Her sweet soprano blended beautifully with Adam’s baritone. When the hymn ended and he closed his hymnal, Adam turned slightly, his dimples showing as he smiled at her in appreciation, mouthing “nice job!”  She flushed prettily, and closed her own hymnal, jostled slightly by her next younger sister, Melanie, in an unbecoming plain skirt (a bit too tight) and blouse (a bit too loose), her hair unattractively pulled so tightly her eyebrows could barely wiggle, and a wry moue on her face, making googly eyes and batting her lashes at the older girl.  Meg glared at her sister, making Mel snort with humor and shake her head. Laura Middleton Collins, Rob’s widowed sister, who’d lived with her brother and kept his house since her sister-in-law’s death roughly eighteen months earlier, rolled her eyes, gathering her reticule and prayer book.

“Honestly, girls, anybody’d think you were brought up in a barn,” muttered Rob Middleton, shaking his head sternly at his two oldest daughters, as his three younger girls tittered with laughter.  Joanie, Little Joe Cartrwright’s age, met eyes with her friend, grinned and winked at him and he returned the grin, only to turn around abruptly when his father firmly smacked the back of his head.

The two beleaguered fathers exchanged exasperated smiles as they ushered their families out of their pews and into the aisle.

On the ride home, Ben quizzed young Joe, 13, on Pastor Davis’ sermon discussing the Gospel of John 15 as they rode gently, side by side, and was only slightly irritated that Joe’s awareness of the teachings of the day’s preaching was spotty at best.  It had been hot and sticky in church this morning, and Ben had a pretty good idea that Joe was more interested in getting home to change into cooler clothes and perhaps head down to the fishing hole than he was in trying to stay awake during the heat of the service.

Hoss and Adam had dropped behind a little, gently walking their horses in the August heat.

“If that’d been us givin’ Pa them answers…” Hoss whispered to his older brother with eyebrows raised.

Adam chuckled. “We’d have been memorizing Bible verses all afternoon,” the oldest Cartwright son finished for him, just as quietly.

“An’ doin’ it standing up!” hissed Hoss, with a grin, making his brother snort.

“True enough.”

“What are you two whispering about back there?” called Ben, good naturedly.

“Just the text from today’s preaching, Pa.  You know… ‘Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends,’” quoted Adam, seriously, and winking surreptitiously at Hoss, who ducked his head to keep from erupting in laughter.

Ben chuckled and shook his head, not hoodwinked in the slightest, but feeling generous.  “Joseph, I think this afternoon, I’d like you to take a Bible out to the fishing hole with you and study that passage from John while you’re waiting for the fish to bite. I’ll question you on it at supper.”

“Aw, Pa!”

The other three Cartwrights laughed, and Ben gently sidled Buck to the side, clearly inviting Hoss and Adam to walk their mounts up alongside.  “So… you and young Meg Middleton sounded particularly good singing together this morning,” Ben observed, keeping his expression innocently blank.

Adam flushed slightly.  “Meg has a very pretty voice, I agree,” he observed, calmly.

“Only one she wants to hear her song is Pastor Davis, though, from what I hear,” sniggered Joe, elbowing Hoss in the ribs, who chuckled, earning him a dirty look from his oldest brother, and making their father fight to keep his lips from curving into a smile.

“That’s enough, Little Joe,” snapped Adam. “You shouldn’t be talking about a young lady like that!”

“Like what?” demanded Joe, stung. “I was just repeatin’ what Joanie told me in Sunday School!”

Adam rolled his eyes.  “Honestly, Pa, your son -”

“All right, all right, all of you settle down.”

“Hey, now! I didn’t say nothin’!”

“Forgive me, Hoss,” amended Ben with a chuckle.  “Adam, Joseph, stop it. Keep up the nonsense, Joe, and your trip to the fishing hole will be a dream that won’t come true.  Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Joe muttered.  When Ben turned Buck toward the cut off for home, the boy leaned forward to see beyond Hoss, riding between them, and stuck out his tongue at his oldest brother, who glared back.  Poor Hoss just sighed, shaking his head and raising his eyes heavenward.

*****

Mel Middleton came into the bedroom she shared with her younger sister and wearily sank before her dressing table mirror.  Quickly she unpinned her hair and sighed in relief as the brutally tight bun was released and cascades of riotous curls sprang free from captivity.  Wincing she rubbed at her scalp just as Bonnie entered the room, setting her prayer book on her own desk.  She sighed and shook her head.

“Honestly, Mel, why do you insist on pulling your hair so tight?” she commiserated gently.  “It’s got to hurt to have it pinned so!”

“It does,” her sister grumbled, shaking her head and allowing her hair to fall past her hips.  “But at least people can’t see how curly it is.”

Bonnie smiled at her.  “And why is that a sin?” she asked tenderly, coming up behind her sister and stroking her head. “I’d give anythin’ to have your beautiful curls.”

“I’d give anythin’ to hand ‘em off to you,” Melanie snorted, reaching up and patting her younger sister’s hand, then rising to her feet and turning so that Bonnie could unbutton her bodice for her. “‘Beautiful,’ my eye.  They make me look like I got struck by lightnin’.”

Bonnie laughed and shook her head. “You work so darned hard to not look like a girl,” she chuckled, working on the long line of pearl buttons in the back of her sister’s bodice.

“Does me no good,” the older girl said bluntly.  “My best use in this family isn’t as a beauty, since you and Meg have that tied up.  Thanks, Sissy.”  She quickly stepped out of the skirt and petticoats, then slipped out of the sticky bodice.  Once freed she breathed in relief. “Oooh, that’s better.  Goodness but it’s hot!”  She reached for her pants and chambray work shirt.  “Nope, my role is Pa’s right hand, Bonnie.  You and Meg will have to be girly enough to cover for me.”

Bonnie set the petticoats and skirt on her sister’s bed and glanced at the book on the table on her side of the bed.  “A new book?”

Mel looked up from buttoning her shirt and smiled. “Yes!  Mr. Dickens’ latest,” she nodded enthusiastically.

Bonnie opened the front board and the first few pages. “‘It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,’” the younger girl read, frowning in bemusement.  Melanie smiled at her.

“It’s the art of comparison, Bonnie… he’s comparing England and France at the time of the Revolution.”

Bonnie shook her head.  “You and your books,” she smiled.  She slyly glanced at her sister.  “Adam Cartwright bought that book last week at the mercantile, too, didn’t he?”

Melanie flushed slightly, taking the book from her, closing it and setting it back on the table, then stomping her feet into her work boots.  “What if he did?” she asked, loftily.  She quickly bound up her hair, more loosely this time, readying herself to go out to do the afternoon chores, and sped out the door.

Bonnie sighed after her.  She knew her sister dreamed of the oldest Cartwright son, sharing his love of the printed word… and also knew that his interests rested on their older sister, Meg.  If only Mel could see how beautiful she is and understand that she’d have a better chance of getting Adam to pay attention to her if she’d just LOOK like a girl! 

Shaking her own head, Bonnie changed into a house dress and slipped on her apron to go downstairs to help Aunt Laura prepare the big Sunday meal.

*****

Early Tuesday morning, Ben Cartwright walked down the main stairs, rolling up his shirtsleeves, pleased to see – for once! – all three of his sons on time at the breakfast table.  “Well, this is a pleasure!” he said with a smile as he crossed the great room.

Adam glanced up from his copy of the newest Charles Dickens’ novel, questioning, and hastily closed his book – reading at the table was something that irritated his father to no end.

“What is, Pa?” asked Hoss, his head tilted, puzzled.

“No one having to go roust your little brother out of bed,” he grinned, winking at Joe and patting his shoulder on his way to his seat.

The youngest Cartwright grinned reaching for the platter of fried eggs Hop Sing had just deposited on the table as his employer sat down.

“Didn’t wanta risk goin’ hungry from big brother over there eatin’ everything,” Joe confided, impishly.

“Ha ha ha,” snorted Hoss, pointing at him with his fork. “You’d best watch yer step, Short Shanks. Pa’s got you workin’ with me on that fencin’ out by north meadow, y’know.”

Adam chuckled, shaking his head. “‘Working’ might be a bit of a misnomer,” he observed, his lips twisted in a gentle smile.

“I work as hard as anyone!” protested Joe, hotly.

Adam and Hoss chuckled at each other; Lord, but that boy could get feisty faster than anybody they’d ever met!

“Adam, let’s not start the day with an argument, all right?” suggested Ben, blandly.

“You’re right, my deepest apologies,” said Adam, an angelic smile on his face as he sipped his coffee, and winked at Hoss, who snorted into his glass of water.

Joe grumbled until his father cleared his throat, eyeing him sternly as well.

“You got in fairly early last night, you two,” he glanced at his older sons, as he poured himself a cup of Hop Sing’s good, aromatic coffee as well.  “Not enough going on in town last night to keep you interested?”

“Nah,” offered Hoss, spearing two sausage patties with his fork.  “Warn’t nothin’ goin’ on at the Silver Dollar. Oh!” He sat up suddenly. “’Cept I did hear that Mr. Middleton took a real bad spill yesterday!” His fork finished its journey back to his plate, and he reached for one of Hop Sing’s feather-light biscuits.

Both Adam and Ben looked up, surprised, and glanced at each other. “What’s that?” demanded his father.

“Mr. Middleton, he had a hard fall breakin’ horses,” nodded Hoss, seriously, buttering a biscuit.  “I heard Tom Brandon – you know him, Pa, one of Mr. M’s hands? – heard ol’ Tom say that Mr. Middleton busted his leg… bad thigh bone break.”

“You didn’t mention it last night,” said Adam, frowning and setting down his knife.

“Sorry, musta forgot,” shrugged Hoss, buttering his biscuit.

Ben sat back, frowning.  “Well, that’s a shame,” he said, concerned.  “I know Rob Middleton’s got a big horse contract to fulfill.”

Adam finished chewing a bite of ham and lay down his fork.  “What if I went over and helped them out for a few days?” he asked, seriously. “Maybe, if I can help Hank Vickers get things caught up, they won’t lose out on that contract?”

“You’re more interested in Meg than them horses,” sniggered Joe.

Adam glared at him, but even Ben and Hoss tried to keep their grins to a minimum.

“That’s enough, Joseph,” said Ben calmly.  “Not a bad idea.  Hoss… suppose I go out with Joe today and the next week or so to work on that fencing, and you and Adam both see how you might be of help to the Middletons?  They’ve only got the three hands and they’ll be up to the hub with chores, much less working on that contract.”

Joe’s pained expression wasn’t lost on Hoss, who knew that today his little brother wouldn’t get away with one tenth of the slacking off he, himself, would have allowed. Hoss grinned to himself.  “Sounds good to me,” he nodded, thinking of Bonnie Middleton’s honey blonde hair and big brown eyes. She’d been one of his friends at school, and was one of the few girls around who didn’t scare him half to death.

Adam’s eyes sparkled at the idea, thinking how he might come up with a way to talk Meg into a picnic.

Joe pouted. “Aw, heck, Pa, all Adam’ll do is wanna spark Meg and -”

“Joseph,” warned Ben.  “What Adam does with his spare time is none of your business.  And any one of the Middleton girls would be a lovely catch.”

“Huh!” snorted Joe, rudely. “Mel Middleton? You gotta be kidding!”

“Joe!”  Three voices all echoed dismay.

“Well, it’s true!” he protested.  “She’s as ugly as a new-shorn sheep!”

Adam threw up his hands in frustration and raised an outraged eyebrow at his father, while Hoss struggled to keep a straight face and Ben looked pained.

“Well, she is…” finished Joe, his voice small, realizing he might have stepped a bit over the line.

“You and I are going to be having a serious conversation about what are and what aren’t acceptable  observations about the fairer sex this week while we’re working on fence lines, young man,” Ben growled at his youngest son, making the younger boy wince while his older brothers shook their heads, again marveling that when it came to their littlest brother, Pa’s belt didn’t seem to get nearly the same amount of time out of his belt loops as it had when they were younger.

*****

“Miz Mel, I ain’t so sure ‘bout this.”

“You don’t have to be, Hank, I’m sure enough for both of us.”

The young woman pulled on her gloves and fastened the belt buckle of the chaps she’d found in the tack room around her waist, then began securing the ties around her legs.  “Tommy, move that cayuse into the chute, will you?”

“Yes’m, Miz Mel,” responded the young ranch hand, his eyes wide in horrified wonder.

“Mr. Rob, he ain’t gonna like it!”

“He’s gonna like it even less if we haven’t got those horses broken to meet our contract,” she replied coolly, straightening up.  “Hank, you know I can do this, because you’ve SEEN me do this.” She turned and headed for the chute.

“Yes, ma’am, I did and yer daddy just about tore me a new one for lettin’ you!”

The young woman stopped mid-stride on her way to the gates, and she turned abruptly on her bootheel. At nearly five feet and nine inches, Melanie Middleton was exactly as tall as the middle-aged foreman, and he felt the blaze of her fiery eyes as she turned them on him, full bore. “Well, my daddy is laid up with a broken leg and three broken ribs, if you hadn’t noticed!”

“I’m aware, Miz Mel, and you know, full well, it was from him havin’ ta chew gravel!” snapped back the foreman, pointing at the corral. “Doin’ just what you’re about to do now, ya fool kid!”

“You know I have more strength in my legs than he does… more than you do, come to that!  And even if I didn’t, I’d still have to try!  Otherwise, this ranch is in deep trouble.  Now are you gonna help me or are you going to continue to throw roadblocks in my path, Henry?  Because if it’s the latter, you can march up to the house and grab your lunch so you don’t have to watch!” The last was snapped out as sharply as a whiplash.

Helplessly he met her glare, then hung his head, his shoulders sagging.

Eyebrow arched, she nodded once.  “We ready, Tommy?” she demanded, eyes still glaring at her foreman.

“Yes’m.”

“Good.”  She turned then and her long legs easily navigated the slats of the fencing and she slowly lowered herself into place, carefully placing herself in the saddle.

You’d best hope you know what you’re doing, Melanie… or you’ll be in the bed beside Pa in there, and THEN what?!

In the house, Meg and Bonnie were readying the spinning wheel for carded wool, while Aunt Laura gently kneaded several set-ups of pie crust, planning to use up the peaches and apples needing badly to be cooked before they turned.  All three started in surprise when two pairs of pounding feet pelted up the porch steps and through the kitchen door as Joanie and Prissie ran in. Rolling her eyes, Laura went back to her work.

“Auntie Laura! Meg! Come quick!  Mel’s gonna ride a bronc!” cried little Prissie, her wail sharp as a tack.

“What’s that?!”

Meg raised her head to hear her father bellow from his room upstairs, where he was confined to bed…. But since it was his leg that ailed him and not his ears, Priscilla’s shriek had reached him on the second floor. She looked worriedly at her aunt.

Eyes wide, Laura Collins’ head snapped up from the pie crust she was rolling out and glanced quickly at her two youngest nieces as they bubbled over like pots of boiling water in their excitement.

“Oh, my sacred Aunt,” she muttered dropping the rolling pin to the table and hurrying to the door, wiping her hands on her apron. “You, Joanie and Prissie, go on upstairs and tell your father I said to stay put, that I’m handling it!” she ordered the younger girls sternly, and rushed out the door.

As Aunt Laura, Meg and 16-year-old Bonnie hurried down to the corral they saw the main event was already underway.

Her heart in her throat, Laura bit her lip, gripping the top rail of the fence.  Meg, more sanguine, leaned against the railing and watched, studying Mel’s form.

“She’s doing well,” offered Bonnie, in quiet reassurance, he eyes tracking her sister as she made a darned good ride.  “She really does know what she’s doing, Aunt Laura.”

“She’s going to break her neck!” the woman ground out.  She spied the foreman, Vickers, further down the fence line and strode to him. “Have you lost your mind?! What in all that’s holy do you think you’re doing, allowing that girl in there?”

“‘Allowin’?’” Hank shook his head, snorting, his mouth twisted. “You’ve met her, ain’t’cha?” he demanded, pointing at the girl. “Miz Laura, you know damn – beg pardon, ma’am – darned well that with that one there ain’ no allowin’ goin’ on! Due respect, ma’am, but that dog won’t hunt!”

And as quickly as that, the ride came to an end as Mel steadied the animal to a slower gait.  As one of the other hands came up alongside, she quickly released her feet from the stirrups and swung around on her backside to allow her long legs to let her slide behind the other rider, as the hands cheered and clapped for her.

“Good ride, Miz Mel!”

“Thassa way it’s done!”

“Done yer Daddy proud, ma’am!”

She nodded at the men, refusing to allow the slightly pulled muscle in her back to let a grimace show on her face, but her eyes widened as she saw Aunt Laura at the siderail, her face white… with fear or rage, Mel couldn’t tell.

Oh, hell’s bells. Mel sighed and strode to the fence line. “Now, Aunt Laura, before you -” she started.

“Inside.”

Rage, then.

“But -”

“Now!”

Growling in frustration, tall Melanie Middleton stalked, straight-backed, past her tiny aunt and strode toward the house, with the older woman and two sisters following along like a goose and its goslings.

*****

As Hoss and Adam trotted their mounts toward the Bar M ranch house on the eastern border of their land and the Middletons’, below Washoe Lake and halfway between their homestead and Carson City, Adam noticed how quiet Hoss had become.

“What’s got you so tight lipped, little brother?” he asked, with a gentle smile.  “Something bothering you?”

“Nah, not really,” answered Hoss, settling himself in his saddle, annoyed with himself to have been caught out.

“C’mon, Hoss,” chuckled Adam, shaking his head. “You’re as transparent as glass.”

“Huh?”

Adam smiled at him. “You’re sweet on Bonnie Middleton.”

Hoss’ face burned crimson and he frowned, staring straight ahead. Dadburn, how’d he always do that?  It was like that dadblasted older brother o’ his could see right inside his head!

“She’s a lovely girl, Hoss,” said Adam gently.  “And she could do a helluva lot worse than you, younger brother.  You’re pretty special, too, y’know.”

Hoss snorted, going redder if at all possible.

Adam chuckled and shook his head. “Just screw up the courage and ask her out.  What’s the worst that could happen?”

“She could say ‘no.’”

“Well, yeah… but…”

“But, nothin’.”  Hoss shook his head.  “If’n she says no, that’s it.  I’m gonna wait until somethin’ maybe comes up that ain’t too personal-like.”

Adam frowned. “Like what?”

“Well, I don’t know, do I?” expostulated Hoss, spreading his hands wide.

Adam’s eyes widened.  Whoa… little brother really does have it bad!  “Okay, okay, don’t bite my head off,” he said blandly, with a small smile.

Hoss calmed a bit and sighed. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“Look,” said Adam, gently, “I’ll let you be, but you really do need to start believing in yourself.  Because I’ll tell ya, Little Brother… you don’t give yourself anywhere near the credit you should.”

And with that he let it ride, and the two Cartwright brothers continued on to the threshold of the Bar M in companionable silence.

 

As they trotted into the ranch yard, they saw Hank Vickers just finishing a bronc ride, getting the animal well under control in a short amount of time.  They dismounted out of the line of sight of the man or the animal and tied up their mounts at the hitching rail then walked over to the corral, watching and cheering the man along with the other two Bar M hands.

“Nice ride, Hank,” offered Adam, as the man made his way back to the fence.

“Thanks, Adam, good of you,” he smiled, climbing up and over the fence rail.  “What brings you two out here?”

“Well, younger brother, here, heard about Mr. Middleton’s accident last night in town from one of your hands,” said Adam seriously, “and Pa and we wondered how we might be able to help out.”

Vickers’ eyebrows rose.  “Ain’t the Ponderosa got enough going on?”

“Ain’t got so much goin’ on that we can’t help out them as has been a good neighbor,” smiled Hoss, his sunny smile making Hank smile in return.

“Well, that shore is kind of you,” he nodded, quietly.  “The Boss’s been lower’n a snake’s belly, thinkin’ ‘bout all that ain’t gittin’ done.  Miss Mel, she’s been doin’ her best, but -”

“Afternoon, Adam! Hoss, good to see you,” smiled Laura Collins as she stepped out onto the porch, wiping her hands on her apron.  “Will you have some coffee?”

“That’s kind, Mrs. Collins,” nodded Adam, “but we’re just here to find out from Hank how we can help out.”

“Help out?  You mean, your pa sent you over to -”

“Yes, ma’am,” grinned Adam.

“Oh, praise the Lord, maybe Rob will finally be able to lie back and rest without fretting,” she sighed, in relief.  “Hank, you come on in, too, for coffee and pie and we can talk about it, all right?”

“Talk about what?”

All of them heard the suspicious voice of Melanie Middleton as she came out onto the porch, rolled up her shirtsleeves and tucked her shirttail into her pants.

“Honestly, Melanie, those pants -”

“Are a lot easier to work in than a blasted skirt,” the girl finished brusquely. “Talk about what?”

Adam forced himself to keep his lips from twisting into a grin.  “Hoss and I have come over to talk about how we might lend a hand while your father’s laid up.”

The girl’s grey eyes – surprisingly pretty grey eyes, Hoss realized with a start, with thick, inky black lashes – widened.  Then narrowed, ominously.  “The Middletons aren’t seeking charity,” she said sternly.

“Good, because we aren’t offering any,” replied Adam, coolly.

“Melanie!”

“Well, we aren’t, Aunt Laura!” the girl replied, firmly.  “Thank you most kindly, Adam, but we take care of our own.”

“Too good to allow a neighboring ranch to assist, hm?”

Vickers bit his lip and lowered his eyes, struggling to keep his lips steady.

Blushing hotly, the girl clamped her jaws together and pulled her work gloves on. “Excuse me, I need to get some hay loaded,” she muttered coldly, and stalked past them.

Hoss watched her go, admiring her grit, even if she wasn’t particularly biddable.  Girl’s got a lotta spunk…

“I apologize, Adam,” started Laura tiredly, pushing a curl off her hot forehead. “That girl’s going t’ be the death of me.”

“Please, ma’am, there’s no need.”

“Well, c’mon in for that coffee and pie so we can talk.”

*****

As the service drew to a close (thankfully! thought most of the youngsters and the elderly in the congregation, about to expire from the stifling heat), Pastor Davis closed his bible and gripped the sides of the lectern, smiling out at his flock.

“So, for our last announcement today, the Ladies Auxiliary would like to let everyone know that because we have some supplies that really need to be used up soon, there’s going to be an unexpected treat this coming Saturday night.  A social, complete with orchestra and refreshments!”

A surprised and excited wave of murmurs bubbled through the church as everyone thought of the fun to be had the following weekend.

“So, everyone put a good polish on your dancing shoes!” laughed the Pastor, an engaging young man who’d done a lot of good work in his three years here.  A young bachelor, the good ladies of the church were doing their level best to find him a wife, since no man of the cloth should try to do this kind of work without a good woman at his side.  Well, according to most women, no man doing any kind of work should be without a good woman, making any bachelor in the surrounding environs fair game to the ladies’ matchmaking skills!

“Everyone, please turn in your hymnals to number 473… My Trust Is in the Lord,”  said Pastor Davis, a broad smile on his handsome face, the smile growing slightly wider as he glanced down at young Margaret Middleton in the second row.  As the elderly organist, Miss Deever, pressed her foot to the organ pedal and her hands to the keyboard, the lively hymn’s tune swelled, and the congregation boisterously joined in.

 

My trust is in the Lord:
How say ye then to me,
“Now like a bird from peril haste,
And to your mountain flee?”

Lo, sinners bend the bow
With arrow fixed for flight;
And stealthily in darkness go
The true in heart to smite.

 

Adam leaned slightly to the side and nudged his littlest brother into paying attention to the lyrics with a stern glance, earning him rolled eyes from the thirteen-year-old.  Adam repaid the glance with a “better me than Pa!” look, that made the boy hasten to straighten up and obey.

Hoss, on Joe’s other side, fought a grin and focused on the pulpit to keep from laughing.

 

What can the righteous do,
What can for them avail,
When all foundations are destroyed,
And all the pillars fail?

 

Meg gazed up at the pulpit, imagining herself in a bridal veil and standing across from the blond and blue-eyed, handsome young pastor.  Since his arrival, she’d been thoroughly smitten, and though he’d been kind, he’d not been overly attentive to her… any more to any other daughter of a parishioner.  But she knew he liked her… she just knew it! And this time, by heaven, she’d figure out a way to get him to be her escort to the social!  Meg Middleton was done with waiting.  At 20, she had no intention of being a spinster.

And, miracle of miracles!  Their eyes met.

 

The Lord in Zion dwells,
The Lord is throned on high;
His eyes behold the sons of men
Their hearts and ways to try.

 

Pastor Davis’ voice faltered just slightly as the electric spark between the two was nearly palpable.  Most people didn’t notice, either focused on the words on the pages of the hymnals or riding herd on wiggly little ones, except for Laura Collins, who knew this hymn by heart.  She stifled a grin as she saw what appeared to be Cupid’s arrow finally flying between Meg and Nick Davis, grateful that perhaps, at last, the young man would be able to put aside his shyness with the fairer sex and step up!

 

The Lord the righteous proves;
But those who scorn the right,
Who love deceit and violence
Are hateful in his sight.

 

Ben Cartwright had only half his attention fixed on the hymn, though his strong bass voice hit each note and uttered all the words of the lyric without fail.  He was thinking about the upcoming social… and feeling a very unexpected stirring.  To be sure, he’d had opportunities for female companionship since Joe’s mother, Marie, had died (he was a man, after all!), but he rarely took advantage of them.  The level at which he felt himself thinking of and drawn to a certain lady disconcerted him and made him blush slightly.  Get a hold of yourself, Cartwright!  was his stern thought.

But somehow, he couldn’t shift charming and pretty Laura Collins’ image from his mind…

 

For righteous is the Lord,
He loveth righteousness,
And with a gracious countenance
The upright he will bless.

 

 Pastor Davis stood at the door, shaking hands and wishing everyone a good week.

“Wonderful sermon, Pastor,” smiled Ben Cartwright, shaking his hand.

“Thank you, Mr. Cartwright,” nodded Nick Davis.  “But it’s hard to beat Ecclesiastes 9 in a ranching community,” he grinned.

Cartwright chuckled and herded his boys ahead of him, allowing the next parishioners to exit the church.

When the Middletons reached him, Davis clasped Mrs. Collins’ hand. “I was so sorry to hear of Rob’s accident, Mrs. Laura,” he said seriously.  “Doctor Martin says the break was a clean one, though, and should heal well, I hear.”

“Yes, we’re thankful for that,” nodded Laura with a smile.  “His spirits aren’t too bad, either, especially since the two oldest Cartwright boys came over this week to help around the ranch. He’d been so worried about a horse contract that the ranch holds.”

Pastor Davis noticed Melanie blushing slightly and frowning at the tips of her shoes.

Pastor Davis nodded and his glance traveled to Meg.  “Yes, the Cartwrights are good neighbors,” he said slowly. “Miss Middleton… erm… would you… could I ask you to stay after for a moment?”

The five Middleton daughters’ jaws dropped, though Mrs. Collins smiled, and winked surreptitiously at the pastor, gathering the four younger girls firmly in tow toward the surrey she’d driven to church herself this morning.

*****

The Middleton parlor was awash in excitement that afternoon, as Meg pilfered through the lace and button box, looking for appropriate trim to ‘dress up’ her best gown for Saturday night.

“And here I thought for sure you’d be going with Adam Cartwright,” said Bonnie, with a wink at her Aunt Laura.  “He’s certainly interested in you.”

“Adam Cartwright?  Heaven forbid,” scoffed Meg, tossing her head.

“What’s the matter with Adam?” asked Aunt Laura, innocently, and glancing surreptitiously at Melanie, who was frowning at the stud book, appearing to not be listening but actually had her ears perked for all she was worth. “He’s certainly handsome… a good dancer.  And a very, very nice boy.”

“Oh, nothing really, he’s just a bit of an odd stick.  All those books, and that fancy education o’ his and his high-falutin’ manners,” Meg observed, a little callously.  “I know he doesn’t mean to seem snooty, but—”

“For heaven’s sake, just because the man can read words beyond ‘dog’ and ‘cat’ is no reason to turn your nose up at him!” snapped Melanie, suddenly.

Surprised, both Meg and Bonnie turned to stare at her, while Laura smiled down at the hem she was stitching.

“Besides, your precious Pastor Davis reads a great deal, too!”

“Well, that’s different!” retorted Meg, hotly.  “He reads the Bible!”

“Likely manages to read more than that, sister dear!” Mel grumbled, slapping shut the stud book and stalking out the door.

“Well, for heaven’s sake, what ails her?” demanded Meg, shaking her head and looking from her aunt to her younger sister.  When there was no response, she exhaled in exasperation and flounced upstairs, a few options of lace in her hands to lay against her gown for comparison.

“She’s got absolutely no idea that her sister pines for young Cartwright, has she?” sighed Laura to Bonnie after both older girls were fully out of earshot.

“Not a clue,” corroborated Bonnie, reaching for the pile of mending and her sewing basket by the hearth.

*****

“Here, now, Hoss! You shouldn’t be liftin’ that alone, son!”

“I’m obliged, Mr. Vickers… That thing’s as heavy as a widow’s heart,” he grinned, wiping sweat from his forehead and neck.  “Couldja just slide that block inta place for me? Couldn’t quite manage it with one hand.” Hank quickly slid in beside the youngster, who grinned at him as the man offered additional muscle to lift the heavy wagon’s rear axle, wagon and all, to rest squarely on a woodblock.

“I dessay,” said Hank, dryly, eyebrow raised and shaking his head in wonder at the strength of the boy after he’d done as he was asked.  He then glanced behind the youngster at the pile of already straightened out horseshoes in astonishment at the amount of work the boy’d got done.  The fact that the young man had already got most of the work done on repairing the wagon wheel that’d been sitting broken for nearly a month – and which Hank hadn’t even asked him to help with! – made him plan to definitely have strong words with his own hands, the lazy varmints!  This boy was showing up men twice his age!  “Son, I swan, you’re better’n any two hands we ever had on this ranch!  Sure you ain’t interested in joinin’ up with the Bar M?” he teased.

“I think my Pa might have somethin’ t’say about it,” chuckled Hoss, gesturing at the tar bucket and brush nearby.  “Sir, if you’ll be good enough t’ lather’up that axle, I’ll lift ‘er agin and you can slide that there wheel on.”

As the two men labored to reseat the wheel, young Bonnie Middletown came down from the house, a pitcher of iced lemonade and two glasses in her hand.  “Aunt Laura thought you fellas might be a bit parched,” she smiled as they dusted off their hands, grateful that the wheel was on and spinning well.

“Girl, you’re a sight I’m glad t’see!” declared Hank with a grin.  “Hey, Miss Bonnie… you take a peek at the corral on your way by?  Adam ain’t lettin’ Miss Mel get busted off, is he?”

She chuckled and handed him his glass, eyebrow raised. “Hank, have you ever known any man, ‘sides Pa, able to tell Melanie anything?”

“True ‘nough,” he sighed, taking a grateful swallow.  Sometimes, not even her Pa! “Lord, but that’s welcome.”

“I’ll say,” agreed Hoss, smiling shyly at the girl, accepting his glass.  “I sure do thank you, Bonnie.  Looks awful good.”

She grinned at them both, nodded, and headed back to the house.

Hank watched Hoss watch her and smiled slyly.  “Pretty little gal,” he offered, in a voice that was far too innocent.

“She shore is,” agreed Hoss, absently, his eyes watching her slim figure sway its way back to the house.  After a moment, he realized that silence had fallen.  Hoss started, and glanced at the older man, standing there grinning at him, amused, and blushed furiously, turning back to the remaining branding irons that needed straightening or repairing while Hank chuckled.

*****

That night, as Melanie and Bonnie readied for bed, Bonnie noticed Melanie was more subdued than usual.

“Anything wrong?’ she asked, gently.

“Why should there be?” muttered Mel as she brushed her long curls.

“Well, you with your chin draggin’ on the ground is a real good start,” replied Bonnie, seriously.

Mel glared at her.

“Hey, don’t get mad at me, I’m just worried for ya.”

“Well, don’t,” the older girl snapped, setting her hairbrush down with a slap on the dressing table and rising, heading to her side of the bed.  Normally, Melanie would read for half an hour or so, but tonight the girl climbed into bed and turned on her side away from her sister.

Remember the words her older sisters had shared Sunday afternoon, Bonnie hesitantly climbed into bed as well.  And would have simply lain down and gone to sleep… until she heard the unmistakable sound of Melanie struggling not to be heard crying.

Without a word, Bonnie curled up behind her and wrapped her arm around her sister, until Mel gave up any pretense of hiding her tears, sobbing into her pillow.

“What is it, honey?’ whispered Bonnie, her heart breaking for this dearest of her older sisters.

“Oh, Bonnie, my heart’s gonna break, I swear it is,” she sobbed softly.

Bonnie rested her chin against her sister’s strong shoulder.  “Adam?” she asked, very gently.  She wasn’t surprised when her sister nodded silently.

“Honey…” Bonnie hesitated, then decided she had nothing to lose.  “You know, you might have a better chance of Adam seeing you instead of Meg if you let yourself, just once, look like a girl.”

“Oh, what’s the point!” the girl choked, trying to wipe at her streaming eyes.  “I’m not pretty, I’m not accomplished, I’m not …”

“I just don’t understand how you can say that, Mel!” declared Bonnie, honestly.  “You’re beautiful!!”  She abruptly sat up in bed and pushed her legs off the bed and hurried around to her sister’s side, literally grabbing her sister’s arm and pulled her out of bed, dragging her to the dressing table.

“What in heaven’s …”

“Oh, hush!” Bonnie snapped as she struck a match and lit the lamp on the dressing table.

Startled by her sister’s tone, Melanie complied.

As the light bloomed, all Mel saw was a blotchy face and rumpled hair.  She winced and turned away.

“No!” snapped Bonnie, again, suddenly reaching for the hairbrush. She went to work.

In moments, she’d quickly and efficiently arranged his sister’s hair in a way the girl had never seen before and her jaw dropped slightly.

Looking back at her was a reflection of a softer, attractive hairstyle that flattered her slim face, somehow allowing the beautiful, hollowed cheekbones and high forehead to be flattering instead of garishly manipulated as her usual, too-tight hairstyle had done. Her lovely brows, no longer distorted by the tightly pulled hair, accentuated the quite honestly beautiful, sooty, thickly lashed grey eyes.

Even though her skin was still mottled from her crying, in amazement, Melanie could see … well, could see someone else who’d been hiding there all along.

“See?” Bonnie whispered gently, patting her shoulder.  “’Bout a year ago, you suddenly went from ugly duckling to swan, Melanie, but for some reason you just couldn’t see it.” She leaned down, and her own lovely face smiling beside Melanie’s no longer mocked a “plain jane” countenance beside her, but a beauty in its own right. “You’re lovely, Sissy.”

In wonder, Melanie touched her own face and then her face crumpled in tears… of joy and wonder this time instead of grief.

Then her expression grew resigned.  “But he wanted to ask Meg,” said Melanie, quietly.  “I’m no man’s second helpings,” she sniffed, her pride refusing to allow her to contemplate vying forAdam’s attentions.

“Fine.  Then be some other man’s,” said Bonnie, nodding.

“Who, for heaven’s sake?”

“Let me think on it.”

*****

On Tuesday morning, Bonnie was out, spreading corn for the chickens and gathering eggs, when she was surprised to hear hoofbeats. Who could be coming so early? She wondered and came around the corner of the barn.  She saw Hoss Cartwright riding in alone.  Eyebrows raised in surprise, she nonetheless smiled at him.

“Morning, Hoss!” she greeted him. “Goodness, but you’re here bright and early!”

He looked dreadfully uncomfortable, making her wonder what could be wrong, as he dismounted and slapped his reins around the hitching post.

“I… uh… I wanted… I mean… I needed…”  he stammered, then reached a hand up and pushed his big sugarloaf hat a little further back on his head, scratching his forehead and sighed.

Lordy, but this is awful.  “Bonnie, I guess I should just come out with it.”

Alarmed, she set down her basket of eggs and came to him. “Goodness, Hoss, whatever is the matter?” she asked, worriedly.

He manfully pulled in a deep breath, and closing his eyes, spit it out in a rush.  “Bonnie-wouldja-be-so-kind-to-let-me-escort-ya-to-the-social.”  And exhaled, as though he’d held his breath while the dentist pulled a tooth.

Stricken, Bonnie flushed.  Oh, dear…

“Oh… Hoss.”

Hearing her voice, he opened his eyes and wilted.  “Yeah… I guess it were a pipe dream,” he muttered, turning to his horse to lead it to the barn and start working.

But her hand shot out and clasped his arm. His blue eyes, filled with sadness and hurt, gazed down at her.

“No, Hoss, it wasn’t a pipe dream,” she said gently.  “But… well, you and me, we’re good friends.  Real good friends, have been since we were little,” she said earnestly.  “I’ve never thought of you… that way.  I like you, a whole lot, Hoss.  But not … that way.  And I wouldn’t never want to lead you on to think I did,” she said very gently.

And though he was saddened, it was still heartening to hear her say such things. “You ain’t mad I asked?”

She smiled tenderly. “No, I’m not mad.  I’m flattered.  Any girl’d be lucky for you to ask her,” she said humbly.  “You’re a special fella, Hoss.”

He sighed.  Yeah… so special I ain’t got a date for the dance…

“I’m ‘bout to help Aunt Laura fix some breakfast,” she said tentatively.  “Can I fix you some ham and eggs?”

He shook his head. “No’m… I et breakfast ‘fore I left the Ponderosa.  Thank you, ma’am,” he said softly, and led Chubb into the barn.

Feeling wretched for having hurt his feelings, Bonnie watched him go, helpless.  And then, suddenly, the niggling of an idea began to form…

*****

Adam slapped his work gloves against his pants leg to free the trapped dust and then tucked them into his belt, sighing slightly.  He’d managed to get through the afternoon without a bad toss, which – frankly – amazed him considering he’d not had his attention fully on the job at hand.

“Oh, Adam!  I’m sorry but I’m afraid Pastor Davis has already asked to escort me to the social,” Meg had said, a somewhat arch and thoroughly undisguised happy expression on her face that belied her words.

But Adam Cartwright had spent a lifetime learning how to hide his true feelings. He grinned in congratulations. “How nice!”  he smiled.  “I’m really glad you’ll have an escort, even if I can’t be the lucky fellow.  Afternoon, Meg.”  He touched his hat brim, winking at her, and walked back toward the corral.

But once he’d turned away he felt his cheeks burning.  Fool!  You should have ridden over and asked her Sunday afternoon!

After giving himself time for a short walk alone to get his feelings back under control, he turned to the corral to finish off the few horses that were on his roster to work with.  When he reached the corral fence, he was surprised to see Hoss there.  He hadn’t seen him at all today, since his younger brother had left very early that morning from home.

“Where the heck were you this morning?” he asked, his tone more critical than he’d intended.

“What do you care?” snapped back Hoss, totally unlike him, to the point that Adam stopped open-mouthed.

But Hoss had the grace to look abashed. “Sorry… guess I’m… well, I ain’t in so good a mood, sorry to take it out on you.”

Frowning, Adam studied his younger brother. “You okay?”

The younger boy shrugged.  Adam glanced at the corral and saw the other hands were readying to ride the next horse, so he had a few minutes. He sidled a little closer to his brother, and, resting his arm on the railing, turned to his brother.  “Hoss… what’s the trouble?”

At first he got no answer, but more gentle prodding finally pried loose an accusatory, “Well, you was wrong!”

“Not the first time today,” Adam answered morosely.  “But what in particular am I wrong about as far as you’re concerned?”

“I asked Bonnie.”

Adam winced. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

The older brother sighed and leaned against the top run of the fence, mirroring his younger brother’s stance.  “Well, if it’s any consolation, I’m in the same boat.”

Hoss glanced to his side. “Meg said no?”

“Pastor Davis already asked her.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Both brothers, each trapped in their own thoughts, had their eyes on the corral but neither registered the good ride the bronc buster delivered, instead replaying their own defeats in their memories.

*****

Tiredly, Ben Cartwright came in the front door, worn out after a day of riding the fence line with young Joe, making repairs where needed.  While Joe was definitely helpful, he missed having Hoss’ or Adam’s physical strength to assist with the heavy work of pulling wire tight and anchoring it to fenceposts.  And, to be frank, keeping the thirteen-year-old focused on the work at hand was a challenge in and of itself, but if anyone was up to the task, it was Ben Cartwright. As a result, it was a very weary Joseph that trudged in after him, more tired than he’d been in ages.

“Joe, go ask Hop Sing to draw a hot bath please and get yourself into it.  You can get cleaned up before supper.”

“Pa, I don’t even think I want to eat, I’m so tired,” Joe complained softly.  “All I want to do is go to bed.”

“I hear you,” chuckled Ben, ruffling the boisterous curls – good Lord, but he needs a haircut again!  Seems like we just had that battle a week ago! “But you’ve got most of the dirt from that range on you and Hop Sing won’t appreciate having it transferred to your bedding.  Go on, now, do as I say.”

“Yes, sir,” Joe muttered, and glumly headed into the kitchen.

Shaking his head, Ben hung up his hat and placed his rolled gun belt on the credenza, noting Adam’s and Hoss’s already in place.  They must have finished up a little early today at the Bar M, he thought, and turned as he heard his middle son’s heavier step on the stairs.  Hoss was coming down, obviously after having done his own washing and changing into a fresh shirt for dinner.  “Hey, Pa,” smiled Hoss, “you look ‘bout done in.”

“I feel ‘bout done in,” sighed Ben, wearily sinking into his red leather chair by the hearth and leaning his head back, closing his eyes.

“Chasin’ after Little Brother ‘bout as tirin’ as chasin’ steers?” grinned Hoss.

Before Ben could respond, said little brother exclaimed a hurt, “Hey!” as he made his way back to the great room.

Hoss laughed. “I’m just joshing, Short Shanks.”

Joe snorted, but good naturedly.  “Pa, Hop Sing was all bent outta shape sayin’ he ain’t got time since Adam already had him heat up water for him, and that I could wait until after supper.”  He plunked himself onto the settee and propped his dirty boots on the oak table, leaning his head back to rest.

“Feet off the furniture.”

As Joe did as he was bid, abashed, Ben shook his head, his eyes closed.  “It’d sure be nice to feel as though I run my own house,” he grunted, but not really upset.  Frowning, he opened one eye and glanced at his middle son.  “Adam upstairs?”  Usually, if his eldest was cleaned up after work he’d be down here enjoying a good book or playing his guitar.

Hoss hesitated, glancing over at Joe who was leaning back on the settee and half-asleep.  “Yeah… ‘bout that…”

At that tone, both fatherly eyes opened completely.  “What?”

“Well… Adam ain’t had the best day, Pa, let’s leave it at that for the moment,” said Hoss quietly, lifting his chin in Joe’s direction.  Taking the hint, Ben frowned and nodded.

Hoss and Ben chatted quietly about how much got done both on the Ponderosa and on the Bar M until Hop Sing came out and announced dinner was ready and for everyone to sit.

“Joe, go up and let Adam know dinner’s ready, will you?” sighed Ben, heaving himself to his feet.

“Uh, Pa,” put in Hoss, uneasily. “Adam said he ain’t hungry tonight.”

Hands on his hips, Ben had had enough of this. “Hoss, what the devil’s going on?!”

“Well, sir,” said Hoss uneasily, again glancing at Joe.

“Out with it!”

“He asked Miss Meg to the social and… well, she turned him down.”

“No kiddin’?!” breathed Joe, popping up, suddenly wide awake.

Ben rubbed his hand over his face while Joe erupted with an infectious giggle.

“That’s enough, Joseph!”  He stalked to the stairs but stopped on the half-landing. “Hop Sing didn’t slave over a hot stove all day so that a bruised ego can halt everything.  You two go ahead and sit down, I’ll be right back.” He continued up the stairs at a good clip.

“Whew! Reckon older brother’s in for it,” chuckled Joe, rising and heading to the table behind Hoss.

“Aw, shut up Joe,” grunted Hoss balefully, his own tale of woe at Bonnie’s kinder (well, kinder than Meg’s version, anyhow…) turn down of his own invitation still rankling.

Surprised, Joe looked hurt.  “What’s’a matter with you?”

“You just ain’t as smart and funny as you think you are, that’s all.  An’ you listen to me, Joseph,” he said sternly, pointing a finger at the boy. “You leave Adam alone tonight, or the next time your feelin’s are hurt I’ll make it my business to make a whole lotta fun o’ you!”

Hoss so rarely got upset with him that Joe felt especially hard done by and pouted as he slid into his seat.

“Boy, nobody around here’s got any sense of humor anymore,” Joe complained quietly, as he opened his napkin onto his lap.

The two younger boys heard the door open upstairs. First, Ben’s strides, as he stalked down the hall and stairs could be heard, and finally, more slowly, Adam’s.

Hoss glanced in commiseration at his older brother, whose face was shuttered closed as he took his own seat, though his mouth was set in a thin, angry line.

“Hop Sing!”

As his employer’s call, the little Chinese man poked his head out the kitchen archway. “It appears my sons are all finally ready for dinner,” declared Ben, forbiddingly eyeing his oldest and youngest sons.  Both straightened slightly in their seats, sighing, each deciding to make the best of their situations. Ben nodded abruptly and turned to his remaining boy.  “Hoss, would you please offer the blessing.”

*****

Mel smiled at Hoss Cartwright as he handed up to her a repaired bridle, and several sets of repaired reins as she stood on a sawhorse and hung them carefully in the tack room.

“You’ve done good work on these, Hoss,” she said, admiring the careful smithing done on the metal rings connecting the strips of leather.  “They look good as new!”

Hoss smiled at her. “Our foreman, Jake, is a dab hand at smithin’… taught me a thing or two.”

“He taught you well,” she nodded, studying the work and then hanging them up. She turned to get down, and he offered a hand to steady her as she readied herself to jump down.

Without thinking he reached up and instead grasped her waist, lifting her down effortlessly… and was surprised to note the tiny expanse of her waist.  Somehow, in that shapeless man’s shirt, he never imagined…

Flushing, she quickly tucked her shirt into her britches. “Thank you,” she said softly, in confusion.  He, too, was abashed.  “Sorry, ma’am.  I shoulda asked first,” he stammered.

She flipped a hand up, reassuringly.  She quickly reached for something, anything, to talk about to fill the silence.

“I wondered what you thought about Flower.”

“Hey?”

“My mother’s mare, Flower. She’s just about ready to foal, and I wondered if you’d take a look at her?  My Pa says you’re good as any veterinarian when it comes to doctorin’ animals.”

Hoss blushed with pleasure and followed the girl to the mare’s stall.  He gently talked to the mare and allowed his hands to gently roam over her body.  “She sure does look like she’s ready to drop any minute,” he nodded.  “But her eyes are clear and her breathin’ sounds fine.  She eatin’ good?”

The girl nodded, smiling tenderly and stroking the horse’s neck.  “Flower’s an old hand at foalin’… this’ll be her sixteenth.  But that’s why I’m concerned.  I didn’t plan on breedin her again at her age, but our stallion, Rocket, had other ideas,” she said wryly.

Hoss chuckled. “Yes’m.  Well, if she ain’t had trouble givin’ birth afore, she shouldn’t have too bad a time now.  She’s in real good shape for a mare her age.  You take real good care of her.”

Melanie nodded, stroking the animal with a gentle, faraway expression in her eyes. “Like I said, she was Mother’s… we take especially good care of Flower.”

The two chatted for a bit longer about the other animals in the barn, not realizing that Bonnie had come up to the door and was listening, smiling as she heard them talk easily with each other.  When it looked as though their conversation was about done, she quickly secreted herself around the corner of the barn, wanting to give Hoss some space.  Her turning him down was still pretty fresh.

After he’d saddled Chubby and bid Mel good evening, riding out to follow Adam, who’d left a bit earlier, Bonnie slipped into the barn as Melanie finished scooping out oats for the horses.

“He’s nice, isn’t he?”

“Who?”

Bonnie tipped her head to the side, raising an eyebrow.

“What, Hoss?  Oh, Bonnie…”

“What, ‘Oh, Bonnie’!” she snorted. “Melanie, you just had a lovely long conversation with the fella… more’n you ever had with Adam Cartwright!”

Startled, Melanie turned and looked at her in surprise.

Stamping her foot in irritation, the younger girl threw her hands up in frustration.  “Oh, Melanie, get your head out of the clouds!”

“I’m not!”

“You are!  You keep wanting Adam Cartwright, your White Knight, to come and carry you away.  Well, you’re no damsel in distress, Melanie Middleton, and life ain’t no fairy tale!”

Flushing angrily, the older girl planted her hands on her hips, about to remonstrate, but clearly her younger sister wasn’t finished yet.

“You and Hoss speak the same language, Mel!  You both like animals, you both understand ranching.  So maybe he doesn’t read all them books like Adam does, but he likes what you like!  You speak the same language!  So, TALK to each other!  And you know what?  Bein’ able to talk together goes a long way to being friends with somebody!”

And the younger girl stalked out of the barn, leaving her sister open-mouthed with consternation.  And slowly, her mouth closed, her expression troubled.

*****

Laura Collins stepped from the Mercantile with a large Nantucket lightship basket on one arm, filled to the brim with lighter-weight items, while lugging a large, 10-lb sack of sugar and two other items in the other, and gasped as she suddenly felt her grip on the items begin to slip.

“Whoa, steady, there!”

She suddenly felt the items in her arm lightened as a broad, strong arm snaked out to capture them and she looked up with relief into the smiling face of Ben Cartwright.  “Oh, thank heaven,” she breathed in relief. “My knight in shining armor.”

He laughed and shifted, making his load more manageable. “May I help you take these things to your buggy?”

“Thank you so very much,” she nodded with a smile.  “I can’t imagine having to sweep up ten pounds of spilled sugar!”

They walked up the plank sidewalk toward where her rig rested, just outside Dr. Martin’s house and office.

Ben looked in concern.  “Not ill, are you, Laura?”

“Oh, goodness no,” she chuckled, shaking her head as she stowed her items. “I’m healthy as a horse!  No, I stopped off to pick up pain medicine for Rob.”  She looked up at the big rancher with a warm smile. “I can’t thank you enough for lending us Hoss and Adam these last few days, Ben.  It’s truly put Rob’s mind at ease.”

“Nonsense,” pshawed Ben, flushing a little. “That’s what neighbors are for!”

“Well, perhaps, but still, it’s kind of you,” she insisted.

Ben hesitated a moment, then remembered advice he’d given his sons in the past to screw their courage to the sticking place and figured he’d best practice what he preached. “Laura, are you in a rush to get back home?  Does Rob need that right away?” He gestured toward the bottle.

Surprised, she looked down at the brown glass bottle in her basket, then shook her head. “No, he shouldn’t run out until tomorrow or next day. Why?”

“Well…”  Ben swallowed.  “I wondered if I might tempt you to talk with me for a few minutes, perhaps over  a cup of tea at Miss Grace’s Tea Room?”

Widening her eyes, Laura was taken aback. “Well, I mean… I…”  Then she looked at his kind face and smiled. “Of course, Ben.  I’d love a cup of tea.  Let’s just stow these items and drive the buggy over to Miss Grace’s.”

Once inside, their order taken, Laura studied the man at her side curiously.  He was nervous, clearly, and blushing slightly.  This was so counter to the normally confident, take-charge rancher she’d come to know in the last eighteen months here, since she’d arrived after the deaths – within just weeks of each other – of her own beloved Mahlon and Rob’s sweet, loving and funny wife, Caroline.

Rob held Ben Cartwright in such esteem, called him one of the smartest businessmen out there, but someone who never took advantage of a body.  Honesty was something that Robert Middleton appreciated and lauded in his neighbors that possessed it. “And God knows, there ain’t as many that do as there should be,” he’d often observe with a grim look.

As Ben settled himself, Laura’s mouth twisted in a teasing smirk.  “So.  What’s got you all tied up in knots, Benjamin Cartwright?”

Startled, the man looked up, his lips parting, then he flushed just a little bit more and sighed, his own mouth settling in a hapless grin.  “Well, you’d think I’d have a bit of practice at this, but…”

Further intrigued, Laura settled back in her chair and waited.  Ben was just about to speak, when he got disconcerted all over again as Miss Grace suddenly appeared with a tray laden with their tea, sugar and cream and some scrumptious-looking shortbread and small cucumber sandwiches.  Laura gave him a few minutes to settle his thoughts as she poured his tea and he stirred in sugar and cream and helped himself to a sandwich.

“Well, Laura, I supposed I’d best just speak plain,” he said finally after drawing in a deep breath.

“Usually best,” she nodded.

“You’ve heard about the upcoming social the church is planning?”

She chuckled. “Ben, I live in a house with five girls. I’ve heard next to nothing BUT the upcoming social the church is planning.” He must be wondering if Adam has asked Meg, she thought, a little sadly.  Adam’s probably not said that she turned him down.

He chuckled. “Well, our house was pretty much the same,” he admitted, with a grin.  At least until a day or two ago… He stirred his tea and then firmly placed the spoon in his saucer.

“I’m so sorry Meg is being so addle-brained about this,” she apologized, reaching for a piece of shortbread.

Startled, Ben looked up, frowning. “Meg?”

She looked at him then, and flushed, uneasy. “Oh, dear, I hope I haven’t spoken out of turn.  I know Adam asked Meg to go with him and she turned him down.  Perhaps you didn’t know?”

Ben sat back, a little surprised, then his eyes narrowed and he nodded. “Yes, I did know that,” he said with a small smile, remembering the strained Cartwright dinner table a few nights earlier. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.  Meg’s a lovely girl, and Adam was… well, quite smitten.”

She nodded, then frowned herself.  “But.. if it isn’t Adam and Meg…”

He shook his head and gazed at her.  “Laura… I’d be most honored if you’d allow me to escort you to the social,” he said softly.

Well, you could have knocked her over with a feather!  Her jaw dropped in a very unladylike fashion, and at his expression she immediately snapped her mouth shut, flushing as crimson as the pillows on Miss Grace’s decorative settee.  “Oh… oh, my goodness, Ben, I … but…”

“I figured, here we are, two single, grown up people, each of us probably a little bit lonely even though we each live in houses with a passel of younger folk,” he said gently.  “And perhaps it just might be nice for us to enjoy a little time together.  No pressure, no claims on each other, just a nice, simple evening at an event sponsored by the church.  I mean, what could be more wholesome than that?” he smiled at her, a winning smile on his dear face.

But that smile faltered as he saw the expression in her eyes.  “Ah.  Well,” he said softly, leaning back, “I just thought you might find it fun.”

“Oh, Ben, you dear man,” she sighed, leaning forward, and placing her hand gently on his. She bit her lip, trying to find the words to make him understand, and not be hurt.  “It’s just… well, it’s just too soon for me.  Every time I hear music, I think of Mahlon and his silly, proud smile as he’d lead me to a dance floor.  Any time I’m at a church picnic, it’s all I can do not to weep to remember how much he used to love our pastor’s wife’s fried chicken, and how he’d eat so much of it he’d almost make himself sick.” Her face was a picture of amused helplessness as she chuckled in memory but also found her eyes welling at that same memory of her husband’s sweet, sheepish smile, even as he would queasily admit he ‘should have left that last chicken leg for someone else.’  It was these foolishly normal, silly things that caught her off guard, bringing to the surface the pain of his loss almost as sharply as the day he was killed, crushed by heavy barrels tumbling from a runaway dray. She shrugged her shoulders helplessly and dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief he gallantly presented to her.  “Perhaps it’s silly and childish of me, but I can’t help it.  I… I still miss him dreadfully, Ben, and I’m afraid I’d be no fit guest for you to squire. I’m so, so sorry.” Though her eyes welled again a little at hurting his feelings, her lips were firm.

His disappointment showed, but he also completely understood.  Until he’d allowed Inger in, it had been more than five long, lonely years before he could even bear to think of anyone but his beautiful Elizabeth on his arm for any reason whatever. “My dear, there’s no reason to apologize.  I understand, better than you realize,” he said gently.  “But I do hope you’re planning to go over anyway, if for no other reason than to see the girls enjoy themselves.”

She smiled and shook her head. “No, I’m going to stay with Rob.  He’s still pretty much unable to get around beyond bed to chair, and one of the few pleasures he’s getting is trouncing me at cribbage.”  She smiled at him.  “Ben, truly… thank you.  And, if I may be so bold…  perhaps the next time the church has a social, I can give it a try.  If so, I would be honored to be asked to dance.”

He did smile then, and squeezed her hand, then both put their attention to their tea.

*****

Friday was tomorrow, and Hoss felt good about what he and his older brother had helped accomplish these past two weeks.  Between Adam and Mel, the Bar M was on track to meet their horse contract, and Hoss and Hank had handled all the blacksmithing and farrier work, as well as repairing tack to be ready for the horses to be transported.  The Bar M hands could take it from here, no problem.  Adam had already headed home, after finishing breaking his last animal.  He was weary to the bone, and Hoss knew he’d taken a couple of hard falls, though only from the other hands; God knew Adam would never share it.  Hoss figured his big brother would be soaking in a hot bath, easing out some of the accumulated aches and pains of the week… including the one related to Meg Middleton’s rejection of his invitation to the church social.

Hoss stretched out some of the kinks he’d developed hunched over animals’ hooves for the last three days and glanced toward the corral, hearing the steady but light drop of hooves in the dirt.  He squinted and started over, smiling to himself to see Mel Middleton putting a pretty paint mare through her paces.  Dang if that girl ain’t got a dab hand with horseflesh.

His conversation with Bonnie a few days back no longer rankled.  If he was honest with himself, he was glad to still have the girl as a good friend, grateful not to have lost that.  But he was still lonesome for a partner for the social and sighed to himself, wondering if there would ever be a young lady who looked at him the way the gals looked at Adam… well, the gals other’n Meg Middleton, anyhow…  He knew Adam meant to go stag and figured that’s what he was resigned to have to do, as well. He wished he didn’t have to go at all, but Pa said they had to go and support the church ladies.

Tiredly, he leaned against the railing, smiling to see Mel working so efficiently with the paint, her hand gentle but firm as she guided the animal.

When she clicked her tongue suddenly, the animal obediently slowed to a stop, making the girl smile broadly, and nod, approvingly.  And Hoss was flabbergasted to note the difference in the young woman’s countenance. That smile… it changed her whole face!

He could see she hadn’t yet noticed him, and remained still… not really knowing why, but wanting to watch… to see what else he mightn’t have noticed before.

She slowly walked up to the paint, talking to it softly in nonsense words that the animal understood – or at least the tone it understood – and the little mare leaned over and nuzzled the girl’s neck making her chuckle.

“Good girl,” she said calmly, stroking the long, pretty neck and then patted the horse’s flank. “G’on, go get your oats,” she chuckled, watching the animal walk toward the corral gate.

Hoss’ breath caught as the setting sun’s rays suddenly caught the glints of gold and amber in the girl’s hair.  He watched her reach up and release the severely tight knot of hair into surprisingly riotous curls as she shook them loose, allowing her hair to ripple down past her hips, and then drew it up into a long, high ponytail of her own, tying it loosely with a leather thong, the sun’s light making the ringlets explode in reds, golds, and rich chestnut browns.  She, too, was tired, he could see, and watched as she stretched.  His lips parted in shock, he felt his body unable to help but respond to the normally shapeless shirt suddenly molding itself to her rounded breasts, her shirt tail coming loose at the waist, and allowing him to see how tiny that expanse was above her hips…just as he’d felt the other day, lifting her off the sawhorse.

Who… who is this beautiful girl?!  Where’d she come from?  She couldn’t be the mousy, tomboy-hoyden Mel Middleton. This was… this was a beautiful woman! Could it honestly be he’d just never seen her before for who she truly was?!

Astonished, he watched as she turned toward the house and saw him, her gentle face suddenly growing warm with friendship as she saw him.  His heart swelled, responding to her warmth as much as his body had responded to her womanliness.

She waved at him and walked toward his stretch of fence.

“Hoss!  I thought you’d gone,” she smiled. “I know Adam left ‘bout an hour back.”

“No’m…” he said softly.  “I was … just finishin’ up in the barn after shoein’.”

She nodded and sighed.  “I can’t… well, to be honest, Hoss, I can’t thank you and Adam enough for all your help this last fortnight,” she said honestly.  “I’m sorry I was so …” She shrugged helplessly, ashamed of her treatment of them when they’d first offered their assistance.

He waved a hand. “No need to say nothin’, Mel… we was glad to help.”

Something crackled now in the air between them, something new… something exciting.  And both felt it.

Melanie hesitated, flushing a little, and remembering Bonnie’s wise words…
“He likes what you like.  You speak the same language!  TALK to each other!”

“Melanie, you -”

“Hoss, I -”

Embarrassed, they laughed after talking over each other.

‘You first,” she smiled, nodding at him.

“Well… if you ain’t already had someone ask…”  Hoss pulled in a deep breath, shakily facing his fears, and started again. “If you ain’t already been asked, wouldja like to go to the social Saturday night?  With … well, with me, I mean.”

She tipped her head to the side, suddenly seeing the clear blue of his eyes… and the clear, still waters of his soul floating within them.  He was such a good fella.  He was kind, he was gentle.  And he was very dear.

Take a chance, Melanie.  Like Bonnie says… he likes what you like.  And it seems he likes you.  So maybe it’s time to like yourself as well?

“Yes, Hoss Cartwright,” she said, very softly, touching a gentle, if callused, hand on his arm. “I would be most pleased to go to the social with you.”

As though he could barely believe his ears, Hoss’ eyes widened in wonder.  And then she laughed with joy to see his whole face light up with happiness.

*****

Rob waited in the ranch house great room, his splinted leg propped up on an ottoman, a glass of wine in his hands as he waited for his womenfolk.  He heard the giggles and laughter as they descended the stairs and his sister first came into the room.

“Are you ready to see your lovely daughters?” she smiled at him, coming over to sit in the chair beside him.

He grinned at her. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” he agreed.

First Bonnie came in, her sprigged lavender dress charming on her, and looking as wholesome and delightfully gentle as she always did.  “You look scrumptious, sweetheart.  You be careful some young buck doesn’t carry you off tonight,” he said with a smile.  She truly was the one that looked most like his Caroline and seeing her brought his wife back to him for a short moment.

Next came Meg, a true classic dark beauty in blue and white, her creamy shoulders rising above a daring neckline.  He raised an eyebrow. “You are goin’ to this social with the Pastor, ain’t you?” he asked dryly.

She laughed. “Oh, Pa!” she scoffed, kissing the top of his head.  “And yes,” she said softly, her eyes shining. “I certainly am.”

He clasped her hand, knowing how much she’d wanted this and hoping it would be everything she’d hoped for.

Then he turned, waiting for his last daughter to emerge.

Slowly… shyly… a tall, exquisite young woman entered the room and Rob gasped.

Melanie stood, tremulous, looking anxiously at her father, hoping she was acceptable, and didn’t look a fool.

Bonnie and Aunt Laura had dressed her ringlets so that they bounced beautifully from a skillful arrangement at the top of her head, cascading down one side of her head to her shoulders.  Aunt Laura had trimmed some of the length, eliminating some of the frizzy split ends, resulting in a healthy corona of chestnut beauty.  Her golden-brown shoulders shone over her green dress, trimmed in black velvet, and Rob’s eyes narrowed as he studied it and then his eyes popped wide in recognition.  “That dress,” he said in wonder and then smiled at her. “That was your Ma’s, wasn’t it?”

She beamed, grateful he wasn’t upset.  “Yes, sir,” she said softly, smiling at Meg and Aunt Laura.  “Aunt Laura and Meg reworked it to fit me, since I’m so much bigger’n Ma was.”

He nodded, blinking suddenly and smiled at her. “Maybe so, but just as lovely.  Oh, Melanie… you look so much like your grandmother, my ma.  She was just like you.  A real beauty, and there wasn’t anybody who could tell her she couldn’t do something, either,” he chuckled, reaching out a hand to her.

She came to him then and clasped his hand. “Am I all right, Pa?” she asked worriedly. “I don’t want to look… look…”  she shrugged, helplessly.

“Oh, baby, you’re more than all right,” he chuckled.  “You’re downright gorgeous.” He wiped at his eyes. “A father ain’t supposed to say that to his children… makes ‘em overly prideful, but in this case it’s the God’s honest truth.”  He looked at all three of his daughters, smiling in amazed and happy pride.  “You’re all of you just plain beautiful.”

They heard hoofbeats and wheels in the yard and the girls excitedly glanced at each other.

“Sounds like your beaux have arrived,” smiled Laura, sitting back contentedly while the girls chattered and went to meet their escorts… and found herself thinking, to her surprise, of a silver-haired man with eyes like dark chocolate…

*****

“I can’t imagine where that brother of yours has got to,” grumbled Ben, in irritation, as he sipped his punch.

He and Adam looked dapper in their white shirts and black string ties, with fresh haircuts and shined boots. Also, kind of at loose ends with no ladies on their arms, not at all a usual occurrence for Adam.

“He said he just had to stop off for something and that he’d meet us here,” repeated Ben’s oldest for about the third time. “And remember, he didn’t want to come at all at the beginning of the week, after Bonnie turned him down,” he reminded his father.  Neither did I, he thought, morosely.

Ben harrumphed and turned toward the doorway as it opened.  He glanced quickly at Adam as he saw Meg Middlton come in on the arm of young Pastor Davis, who looked like he’d been given the best Christmas present ever.

Adam sighed and forced himself to smile and nod at the two.  And even he had to admit, they made a handsome couple and looked happy together, Meg so dark and Pastor Nick Davis so fair-haired and blue-eyed. They looked… well, they looked right, he sighed. He realized that he’d been in love with what he’d ‘created’ her to be in his mind: voice of an angel (that was true enough) but imagining her to love books as he did (she did not), and enjoying engaging in spirited philosophical discussions (she did not).  He’d not really known the living, breathing, flesh-and-blood girl she actually was, a down-to-earth girl who thrived on being of service, and who honestly loved the young pastor of their church.  He chuckled to himself, shaking his head at the romantic fool he’d shown himself to be over this situation.

Meg and Nick were followed in by Bonnie Middleton, pretty as a picture in a lavender gown that blended beautifully with her honey blonde hair.  She was alone but didn’t seem unhappily so, Ben thought. At 16, she was like a gentle breath of fresh air.

But it was the next two to enter that shocked them, and everyone else in the room. A quiet hush fell as Hoss Cartwright came in with a tall, beautiful girl on his arm, a girl with a riot of shining copper and gold and chestnut brown ringlets cascading down over one of her shoulders.  Her gown of a rich green trimmed in black was the perfect color to set off her tawny skin and her beautiful, thickly lashed grey eyes.

“Who’s that with Hoss?” asked Ben, astonished. She was familiar but he just couldn’t seem to place her. “I thought he was coming stag?”

Adam’s jaw dropped, and then he grinned from ear to ear, shaking his head in wonder.  “That, Pa, is Melanie Middleton,” he said softly with an admiring look first at the girl, and then a warmly affectionate one at his bashfully proud younger brother. “And it looks like Hoss is the Cartwright that won all the marbles.”

Ben’s eyes snapped wide in sudden recognition, and then he smiled broadly to see his normally bashful son looking… well, looking happy as a clam!

For Hoss Cartwright stood tall, his shoulders squared and his face beaming at the way people were looking at this gorgeous girl on his arm.  As people buzzed around them, the girls exclaiming over Mel’s dress, the men slapping Hoss on the back in congratulations, Adam watched and smiled to himself, pleased for the younger man.

The orchestra suddenly struck up a tune. As Hoss proudly led the tall girl to the dance floor and began a waltz, his dark older brother smiled fondly and shook his head.

Good for you, little brother… good for you.

***The End***

Author’s Notes:  Written for the 2025 Ponderosa Paddlewheel Poker Tournament.  This year we played 7-card stud where we were dealt seven cards and had to use at least five of them.  The words/phrases I was dealt were:

An odd stick
Whew!
That dog won’t hunt.
As heavy as a widow’s heart
She’s as ugly as a new-shorn sheep
Chew gravel