Summary: Hoss and Joe become convinced that their father intends to marry the Widow Hawkins – and that it’s up to them to save him from this terrible fate.  A “What Happened Later” for “The Burma Rarity.”  Written for the 2025 Ponderosa Paddlewheel Poker Tournament.

Rating: PG
Word Count: 8,040

1.

Hoss Cartwright wasn’t feeling even the tiniest bit of guilt as he admired the steak luncheon that had just arrived at his table in Daisy’s Café.  Sure, he was supposed to be over at the mercantile helping Adam and Little Joe load up supplies – but after all the times they had stuck him with the heavy lifting and considering how rare it was that he managed to slip out on something like that, he was going to enjoy this thoroughly.

Anyway, he’d been able to smell Daisy’s steak from four blocks away.  It would have required more than human strength to resist.

Hoss sliced off a big juicy bite and had it halfway to his mouth when the front door opened.  A new sound rang through the café that made Hoss freeze with the steak still suspended in the air.  It was not the kind of sound that would usually bring a chill to the blood, or cause a big, strong man like Hoss Cartwright to drop his utensils and dive for cover under the comparatively small table.

It was a warm, baritone laugh, and one Hoss recognized immediately as his father’s – and Pa knew full well exactly where he was supposed to be right now.  Not here.

Hoss peered out from the cover of Daisy’s tablecloth and watched his father’s boots approaching a table across the way.  Ben pulled back a chair, and a rustle of skirts settled into it.  Which was funny, because Hoss hadn’t noticed Pa seeing anyone around town lately, and they hadn’t been expecting any visitors.

Ben took the opposite chair at the table, and said in the friendliest of tones, “I’m glad we’re doing this today, Clementine.”

Clementine?

All of Hoss’ worst fears were confirmed when the unmistakable sound of the Widow Clementine Hawkins’ voice purred through the café, saying, “Coo, Benjamin, you know I’ve been wanting to get together for a long time.  It’s never too soon to start thinking about the future.”

“Or too late, I hope,” Ben said, and then their voices dropped to a more – and Hoss hated to use the word in this situation – intimate level, words dissolving into a mere murmur of sound.

He had to get out of here.  If Pa saw him now, while this was going on…  It fair gave Hoss the shakes to think about it.  He didn’t dare stand up, so he reached up to the tabletop to snag his hat.  Then, staying down low in a crouch, he scuttled as best he could towards the door.  Ears attuned to the continuing voices behind him, he reached up for the doorhandle, eased the door open, and crept outside.

He breathed a sigh of relief once the door was closed behind him, sagging down to sit leaning against it.  Whew!  That had been way too close.  He wiped his brow, then looked up to find Sheriff Roy Coffee staring down at him.

“Everything all right there, Hoss?” Roy asked, hooking his thumbs into his belt and eyeing Hoss thoughtfully.

“Oh, sure,” Hoss managed, and stood up to his full height.  “Jest fine, Roy, jest fine.”

Then he took off down the street.  The last thing he needed now was Pa looking out the window.  He just caught Roy’s muttered, “Sometimes I wonder about those Cartwright boys,” behind him as he fled.

He should make straight for the mercantile.  Stay out of any more trouble.  But – well, by the sound of things, Ben would be at the café with the Widow Hawkins for a while yet – the image making Hoss shudder – and he was feeling a mite shook up all around.  So he bent his steps towards the Silver Dollar Saloon.  One beer.  That’d steady him.  And maybe Sam the bartender would have some peanuts or something, seeing as how he’d had to leave his steak behind.

The saloon was quiet this early in the day, only one customer leaning on the bar in animated conversation with Sam.  Hoss wasn’t even surprised to see that it was Little Joe.  He’d had plenty of time by now to wriggle out of loading supplies too.

“Hey, big brother!” Joe called, hoisting his beer mug in salute.  “I wondered where you got to.”

“I was over at the café,” Hoss said, automatically taking up the position next to Joe at the long counter.  He considered ordering a whiskey – surely the situation justified that – but it was awfully early in the day.  “One beer, Sam.”

“Coming up, Hoss.”

“It was Daisy’s steak that got you, wasn’t it?” Joe said wisely.  “You put the whole thing away already?”

“Noooo, didn’t even get a bite.  Pa came into the café.”

Little Joe winced sympathetically.  “I’m surprised I didn’t hear the bellowing from here.”

“He didn’t see me.  But, Joe, that ain’t the important thing.  You ain’t going to believe who he was sitting in there all cozy with.”  Hoss accepted a beer from Sam, took a long swallow, and told his little brother just who their father had been escorting.

“Clementine Hawkins?”  Joe’s voice rose in volume and pitch, fairly bouncing off the saloon walls.

Hoss flinched and frantically shushed his little brother.  The café was only two blocks away.  “Don’t shout about it!”

“Clementine Hawkins,” Joe repeated, at a more reasonable volume this time.  “Runs the boarding house.  Former theater woman.  Widow of Harry Hawkins the circus strong man.  Tiny little woman way older than Pa.  That Clementine Hawkins?”

“Is there another one?  Yeah, that Clementine Hawkins.  And they were talking all about being together, and planning for the future.  I mean, as far as I could hear.”

“It’s not the first time they’ve been spending time together lately,” Sam volunteered as he wiped down the bar, and when both Cartwrights turned to look at him, he shrugged.  “I’ve seen them together in town, oh, maybe three times in the past couple weeks.”

Hoss downed the last of his beer while Little Joe staggered over to the nearest table and fell into a chair.  “Hoss,” Joe said in hollow tones, “do you know what this means?”

“I don’t think I want to know,” Hoss rumbled, and held up two fingers for Sam.  “Two more beers.”

“Pa is courting Clementine Hawkins!”

“He can’t be,” Hoss protested, even though he had brought the evidence himself, even though that same idea was exactly what had sent him to the saloon in need of a drink.  “We used to tease Pa about marrying the Widow Hawkins, but that was ‘cause we knew he wouldn’t.  And remember, she tried to make him marry her before, in all that mess when she bought the fake emerald from those conmen.  Pa was trying real hard to avoid getting hitched!”

“Sure, but something’s obviously changed since then.”  Joe snapped his fingers.  “He was so impressed with her when the emerald business got sorted out, and she got the real one back.  Remember, he kept saying she was an amazing woman!  That must be when this started.”

“He didn’t mean that, you know, romantically.”

“How do we know?”  Joe ran his hands through his thick curls.  “There’s no other way to explain everything.  And, Hoss – we have to save Pa!”

Hoss could see it coming.  He couldn’t always see it coming, but this time it was clear – Little Joe was about to plunge right off a cliff and drag him along for the fall.  Hoss didn’t really expect to be able to fight gravity, but he made one desperate grab for the cliff’s edge before it was too late.  “Maybe we ought to talk to Adam before we do anything else.”

2.

“No,” Adam said succinctly, without lifting his hat off of his face or lowering his boots from where they were propped on the wagon’s foot board.

By Joe’s estimation, oldest brother was maddeningly untroubled by the revelations he and Hoss had brought to him.  “What do you mean, no?  We told you what Hoss overheard, and what Sam said.”

“And no, I don’t believe that Pa is courting the Widow Hawkins,” Adam said, in his patient tone, the one that meant he thought his brothers were being ridiculous.  It had never, ever, not once, in any situation, made Joe feel calmer.

“Don’t you understand this is a crisis?” Joe demanded and snatched Adam’s black hat right off his face.  “What if they get married?  What if the Widow Hawkins moves into the house?”

“Give me my hat,” Adam said mildly.

“What if,” Joe said with deliberate gravity, “she wants to put old Harry Hawkins’ circus tights up on the wall in the dining room?”

Hoss at least had the courtesy to look alarmed.  “That’d put me right off my food.  Imagine staring at those pink tights at every meal…”

“Talk about food, she’ll probably mess around in the kitchen and drive Hop Sing away!”

Hoss actually turned pale.  “She’s a good cook, but she likes such skimpy portions – a fellow could plumb starve!”

Adam snagged his hat with one long arm and dropped it back on his head.  “Both of you simmer down.  Nothing is happening.  Hoss heard a few remarks and the bartender saw them together.  That doesn’t mean anything.  This isn’t like when Pa came and told us he was courting Adah Menkin.”

“You agreed about interfering that time!” Joe said with a triumphant jab of one finger.  Though he’d rather not dwell too much on how all of that had actually turned out.  It was bad enough that Adah’s boyfriend had beaten him up; it was much worse that she’d thrown him out of her hotel room when he tried to flirt with her.

“I just said it’s not like that time,” Adam pointed out.

“Well, sure,” Joe acknowledged, “not exactly.  No one’s suggesting that we try to seduce the Widow Hawkins.”

The words seemed to hang in the air for a moment as the brothers contemplated this idea – then all three Cartwright boys gave a collective shudder.

“I mean,” Hoss said doubtfully, “it ain’t as if she’s as ugly as a new-shorn sheep.  I ain’t volunteering, mind, but…”

“We’re not doing that,” Joe said firmly.  “But what we could do—”

“No,” Adam said again, leaned back and pulled his hat over his face again.  “I want it on record that I told you not to try anything, and if you do try something, I don’t want to know about it.  You’re not dragging me into whatever mad idea you’re cooking up.  It’s bad enough you both left me to do all the loading by myself.  That’ll do it for one day already.”

Hoss, the conscience-ridden, looked repentant.  “Sorry about that, Adam.”

Joe felt no similar qualms.  “It’s a good thing Hoss slipped off, or we wouldn’t even know what’s going on!”

“What is going on?” a familiar voice from behind him made Joe jump.

“Oh – hello, Pa,” he said, plastering on a smile as he turned around.  “Nothing, just – making plans for the next Founders’ Day.  Maybe they’ll have a flapjack contest we can enter Hoss in!”

It was a sure-fire way to get Pa to change the subject, even if it also made Hoss groan.  But Ben cast a weary glance heavenward and said, “I don’t even want to know.  Now if all those supplies are loaded, let’s get going.  I have to come back to town again this evening for some important business.”

“Important business?” Joe squeaked, then cleared his throat. “What, ah, business is that?”  Surely it was something to do with the ranch – something at the bank, or a meeting about a contract.  Although that wouldn’t likely be in the evening…

Ben cast him a sharp look, apparently not missing his odd tone at all, and in a somewhat odd tone of his own just said, “Never you mind.  It’s my business, and not your concern.  Now get your horses and let’s go.”

“Yessir,” Joe said with his best imitation of his usual grin and cast frantic glances at Hoss as soon as Ben’s back was turned to get in the wagon.

All of Joe’s worst fears were coming true.  What private, personal business could Pa have in town this evening?  Obviously only one thing.  He meant to propose to Clementine Hawkins!

3.

“We’ve got to find some way to keep Pa at home tonight,” Joe decreed.  He and Hoss had let their horses drop behind the wagon where Adam was driving and Ben was riding, the better for a private conversation of the utmost importance.

Hoss screwed up his face doubtfully.  “Wouldn’t he just propose to the Widow Hawkins some other day?”

Joe shook his head, because he’d already thought this through.  “No, Pa’s got to leave on that business trip to San Francisco early tomorrow morning.  A couple weeks in San Francisco’ll be enough time for him to come to his senses.  We just have to head him off from making any commitments tonight.”

“But what can we do to keep Pa from going into town?  It ain’t like we can forbid him or give him extra chores like he does with us.”

“We just have to think creatively.  What if we get him into the barn for some reason – maybe get him up to the hayloft—”

“We can’t push Pa out of the hayloft!”

“Hey, that could work!” Joe said, snapping his fingers.  “I was gonna say we should lock him in the barn, but—”

“We don’t want to hurt Pa!  He could break a leg or something.”

“Keep your voice down,” Joe warned, looking toward the wagon – but Ben and Adam were still watching the road ahead, not turning back.  “A broken leg would slow him down courting,” Joe tried, but his heart wasn’t really in it.  He sighed.  “Yeah, you’re right, we shouldn’t hurt him.  And if we locked him in the barn, he’d probably find a way to get out.”

“And then he’d murder us.”

“That too.”  It was a drawback to the plan.  But it also pointed to another possibility.  “Maybe it would work better if one of us got hurt.”

Hoss’ brow furrowed up.  “I ain’t pushing you out of a hayloft neither, little brother.”

“We wouldn’t have to actually get hurt.  I could just pretend I sprained my ankle or something.”

“Pa would tell Hop Sing to wrap it up and then he’d go into town anyway.”

Probably true.  “I could come down with a sudden illness.  Then he’d have to sit by my bed and stroke my fevered brow and all that.”

But Hoss was already shaking his head.  “That dog won’t hunt, Little Joe.  Pa can always see through it when one of us pretends to be sick.  Didn’t you learn that by the time you were six?”

“Yeah, well, it was an idea,” Joe grumbled, because Hoss was entirely too right about this.  “And I don’t see you coming up with any great plans!”

“Maybe Adam’s right and we ought to leave this alone.  If Pa really wants to marry Clementine Hawkins…”

“If Pa wants that, he’s not thinking straight!  So we have to get thinking, big brother.  It’s our duty to the family to save us all from disaster.”

4.

Hoss watched his little brother closely for the rest of the day, but Joe limited himself to relatively mild efforts to keep Ben at home.  He commented that it looked like rain (it didn’t), mentioned the long list of chores to do around the house (and earned both him and Hoss new assignments), and was definitely behind the disappearance of Ben’s boots (despite his wide-eyed, innocent expression).

“Too bad about that,” Joe said as Ben stood in the entry hall in his socks and glared at the empty space where his boots should be by the door.  “I’m sure you wouldn’t want to wear your second-best boots for important business, so…”

Ben moved the glare to Little Joe.  “Don’t be ridiculous, Joseph, there’s nothing wrong with my other boots.  Which I’m going to put on before they disappear.  Now get washed up for supper.  We’re eating early tonight.”

Ben stalked off up the stairs and Joe flung himself onto the settee with a sigh.  Already sitting by the fireplace, Hoss shook his head sympathetically.  “Mebbe we’d better just—”

“Don’t worry, Hoss,” Joe interrupted, “we’re only getting started.”

“We are, huh?” Hoss muttered, because Joe had not exactly pinpointed the source of his worries.  Although surely even Joe wouldn’t try to steal Pa’s second-best boots right off his feet.

When the chips eventually fell out and responsibilities came home to roost, Hoss would have no qualms about denying any involvement in Joe’s next effort.  All four Cartwrights were seated around the dining table as Hop Sing entered carrying a big pot of stew for supper.

“That looks heavy,” Little Joe said, leaping to his feet.  “Let me help with that—”

And somehow, someway, between Joe reaching for the stew and Hop Sing hanging onto it, and it was all unclear and very deniable but still undoubtedly deliberate to Hoss’ mind, the pot of stew tipped over, crashed down onto the table, and spilled right into Ben’s lap.

For a few moments, chaos reigned.  Hop Sing was hollering in Chinese, Joe was proffering apologies and napkins at a rapid pace, Hoss was looking mournfully at the remnants of supper, and Adam was sitting at his place with one hand over his face.

“Enough – enough!” Ben finally bellowed, and silence fell.  He rose to his feet slowly, giving everyone plenty of time to see the spread of brown stew across his shirt and down over the front of his pants, the stray carrot or potato sticking to the cloth.

“Gosh, Pa,” Little Joe said, looking wide-eyed and concerned; he was really over-using that expression today.  “You’ll want a long, hot bath after this.  Too bad about your business in town, but—”

“Nonsense,” Ben growled, shoving away a napkin Joe was reaching out with again.  “I’ll just go upstairs and change – and then have supper in town before my appointment.”

There was quiet as he pushed away from the table, crossed the room – dropping a few pieces of carrot as he went – and stomped up the stairs.

Hop Sing broke the silence to say, “Cartwrights crazy.  Cartwrights all crazy!”

Hoss sadly watched Hop Sing’s back retreating towards the kitchen.  The cook would definitely not be persuaded to provide another meal after this.  “I like Hop Sing’s stew,” he said to no one in particular.  “There’s nothing like Mulligan stew.  Annie O’Toole’s own recipe, even.”

“What does it take to keep that man at home tonight?” Joe demanded of the room at large.  “Adam, what if—”

“No,” Adam said, stood up, took a roll from the table and retreated to the big chair by the fire, picking up his book and disappearing behind it.

Nothing daunted, Joe turned to Hoss.  “Come on, we’ve got to get the next plan underway.”

“I didn’t know about this plan,” Hoss said, still studying the destroyed remnants of supper.  Looked like some good chunks of beef, plenty of onions…

“It was spur of the moment.  Now come on.”

Little Joe was already heading for the door.  Hoss sighed, picked up a roll and then two more, started to leave the table, popped the rolls in his pockets and turned back for a fourth one, then followed little brother.  Someone had to keep an eye on him, after all.

5.

“What do you mean, Buck’s missing?” Ben roared, and Joe and Hoss flinched in unison from where they stood by the corral railing outside the barn.

Pa was up to a real solid roar by now, which, if the situation had been less dire, Joe might have taken as a sign to rethink and back off – but this was, after all, an emergency of the highest order.

“We came out to the barn to get Buck ready for you, Pa,” Joe said, because it couldn’t hurt to throw in a few details that made them out as kind, considerate sons.  “But the barn door was open.”  Truth.  “Buck must have wandered off.”  Not truth, seeing as they’d had to tug him out of the barn and had only narrowly got him concealed in a stand of trees behind the house before Ben came outside.  Even now, a poorly timed nicker might give the whole game away.

“Buck is not exactly prone to wandering!”

“Well, it’s been such a nice spring day,” Joe offered, and nudged Hoss.  Big brother hadn’t really been holding up his end of these efforts.  Didn’t he understand how important this was?

“Uh – we shut the barn door, Pa,” Hoss volunteered, with a gesture towards it, and smiled hopefully.

Ben just glared at him.  “A little late now, isn’t it?”

“Oh.  Well…”

“I’m sure you’ll want to search for Buck,” Joe said quickly, “so we’ll just get started on—”

“No,” Ben snapped, drew in a breath, and said more calmly, “No, it’s very important that I get into town tonight.  I’ll saddle another horse.  And I expect you two to find Buck by the time I get home!”

Ben disappeared into the barn, and Joe collapsed across the corral railing, latest plan in shambles around his feet.  “How can he not want to search for his horse?”  If it was Cochise missing, he’d drop everything!

Hoss scratched at the back of his neck, fished a roll out of one pocket, and said, “I dunno, Joe, if he’s this set on proposing to the Widow Hawkins, maybe we ought to just—”

“Hoss!”  Joe jolted upright, afire again with passion and purpose.  “Think about what you’re saying.  The Widow Hawkins, living here.  Cooing at everybody, and calling Pa ducky!”

“That could be funny…”

“Cooking in Hop Sing’s kitchen – hanging up circus posters all over the house – trying to take the place of our mothers!”

Hoss straightened up, eyes narrowing.  “Doggone it, you’re right, Little Joe.  We can’t let it happen.”

The trouble was how to prevent it, when nothing had worked so far.  Maybe there’d be some value in trying to lock Ben in the barn after all, but before Joe had time to really commit to the idea, Ben came out leading a newly-saddled mare.

“I might be back late,” Ben said, mounting up into the saddle.  “Make sure you find Buck before it’s dark.”

“Yessir,” Joe and Hoss both chorused together.

At least that wouldn’t be a difficult chore.  Joe tried one last attempt.  “Hey, Pa, I was thinking – you’re about to go on that trip tomorrow.  You sure you wouldn’t rather just stay home tonight?  Make it a real family evening, you know?”

“For goodness sake, Joseph, how many times do I have to tell you that I have important business in town tonight?”  Ben shook his head.  “I just don’t know what’s got into you today.”

And then he was spurring the horse out of the yard, irrevocably on his way.

“You know, that last idea might’ve worked if you’d tried it when he was still in a better mood,” Hoss remarked.

“Yeah,” Joe said, and kicked at the dirt.  “Probably would’ve worked if I was six too, but we can’t change either of those things.”

“So now what?  You still ain’t giving up?”

“No, just let me think – come on, we can at least go get Buck.”

Maybe the walking helped.  Pacing was supposed to be good for thinking.  By the time they were getting Buck out from the trees and turning back towards the barn, Joe’d struck on a new angle.

“You know something, Hoss, I think we’ve been going at this all wrong all along.”

Hoss cast him an incredulous look.  “Well, yeah – Pa left for town.  Nothing worked.”

“I know, but what I mean is, we should have played this from the other side.  We didn’t take into account how stubborn Pa is.  Of course he was always going to insist on sticking to his plans.  He’s not the one we should have tackled.”

Hoss frowned.  “Wait.  Do you mean…”

“Pa’s planning to stop for supper, right?  So if we get saddled and ride fast, we can reach the Widow Hawkins ahead of him.”

“And…we’re still not planning to seduce her?” Hoss asked cautiously.

Joe glared at him.  “Be serious, Hoss.  We’ll simply have a calm, reasoned conversation with her.  And maybe tell her that Pa’s dead.”

6.

The Widow Hawkins’ house was alight in the long shadows of early evening when Hoss and Joe rode up, but there was no sign that she had any visitors.  Hoss found himself automatically looking around for Pa’s big buckskin, even though they’d left the horse in the barn at home.  No other horses stood at the hitching rail either, so apparently they’d made it here ahead of Ben.  With the reckless pace Little Joe had been setting, they definitely should have.

Hoss had the vaguely uneasy feeling that they ought to be slipping around to the back, but Joe marched boldly up to the front door and knocked.

It was only a moment before the door opened, framing Clementine Hawkins.  “Coo, if it isn’t the Cartwright boys come to visit me,” she said, beaming and sparkling up at them.  “Do come in and sit a while.”

“We’d be delighted, ma’am,” Little Joe said, doffing his hat and giving her the full Joe Cartwright smile.  He’d better watch it, if he wasn’t aiming to flirt with her.

Hoss clutched his own hat to his chest as though it was some kind of defense, and followed along behind Joe into the Widow Hawkins’ parlor.

“Aren’t I the lucky one, though,” the Widow Hawkins said sweetly, waving them to two chairs at a spindly table.  “Getting so much attention from the Cartwrights.”

Hoss looked at Harry Hawkins’ pink circus tights up on the wall, gulped – definitely not something he wanted to see at every meal – and settled into a chair with its back to the Harry display.

“Let me get you a cup of tea,” the Widow Hawkins said, already bustling off towards the kitchen.

“Actually, if we could have a quick word?” Joe tried, but she simply waved a hand at him.

“Won’t take a moment, dear.  And I just made some cake too.”

“I like cake,” Hoss volunteered, and refused to be cowed when Joe glared at him.  Little brother had already messed up supper for him.  Hoss wasn’t passing up cake too.

The Widow Hawkins disappeared through a doorway and Little Joe hissed at Hoss, “We don’t have time for this – we’ve got to deal with this situation before Pa shows up and finds us here!”

That was a disturbing picture.  But other motivations were involved too.  “I’m hungry, Joe.”

Little Joe groaned and rolled his eyes, even though it was all his fault anyway.

The Widow Hawkins returned with a tray bearing tea cups and plates, and there was a moment of maneuvering the items around the table.  Hoss found himself presented with a plate holding a heartbreakingly thin slice of chocolate cake; it was a long, long way from the generous slabs Hop Sing served him.

Well, it certainly confirmed the importance of preventing Pa from marrying a woman who thought this was a reasonable portion of dessert!  Hoss half-heartedly took a bite.  It was delicious, which made the tiny amount even sadder.

“I certainly wasn’t expecting you boys tonight,” the Widow Hawkins remarked, settling into a chair of her own.  “I had a rendezvous with your father planned instead.”

Hoss choked on the cake and had to wash it down with a big swallow of tepid tea.  This shouldn’t have taken him so much by surprise, but – deep down, he must’ve been hoping they were all wrong about this whole thing.  Or maybe it was the cooing way she said rendezvous, although the Widow Hawkins tended to coo everything.

Little Joe ignored his spluttering entirely, leaning towards the Widow Hawkins to say, “That’s exactly why we’re here tonight.  About your meeting with our father.  You see, there’s been a change of plans.”

Hoss waited to see where Joe planned to go with that.  They had discussed this on the way here and agreed it probably wasn’t smart to tell the Widow Hawkins that Ben had suddenly died – she’d find out it wasn’t true, like when Ben showed up at her door.  They’d briefly considered telling her straight out that she shouldn’t marry Pa, but this seemed too likely to backfire on them and make her more determined.  Their best bet was to somehow get her away from her house.  They just hadn’t exactly worked out how.

“You see, Pa can’t meet you here,” Joe continued.  “You’ll need to come with us instead.”

The Widow Hawkins frowned in a very unpromising fashion.  “Now, I don’t know about that.  Benjamin was very clear about meeting here tonight.  We both agreed it was the only proper place.  We have a very important matter to discuss, you know – not something to be undertaken just anywhere.”

“Oh yes, of course,” Joe said smoothly.  “But…here won’t work.”

The Widow Hawkins crossed her arms and fixed Joe with a hard stare.  “Why?”

“Well, because – that is, Pa thought – well…”

Hoss was just beginning to enjoy this when Joe swung around to look at him and said, “Hoss can explain it better.”

He choked on his last bite of cake – it had only been three bites and here he hadn’t even been able to enjoy most of them – and stammered, “Well, I, uh…”  His gaze roamed desperately around the room, partly for inspiration and partly to avoid the stare the Widow Hawkins was pointing at him now.

His glance landed on the display case in the front entry, on the dark green gleam of the Burma Rarity, the Widow Hawkins’ emerald – or at least, the replica she kept on display.

“It’s about your emerald,” Hoss said desperately.  “It’s – Pa thinks – there’s someone coming to steal it!”

After the words were out, he realized what a dumb idea this was.  The Widow Hawkins must’ve put her emerald in the bank months ago.  It just didn’t make sense to keep such a valuable gem in her home.

And yet, the Widow Hawkins’ eyes opened up wide and she clutched at her chest and said, “My emerald?  How lucky Benjamin caught wind of the plot!  Someone must have realized when I took it out of the bank this afternoon.”

Well, that was probably luckier timing than they deserved.  “Yes’m,” Hoss said, “so we’ll need you to come with us.  You and the emerald, we mean.  To, uh, to go meet Pa.”

He didn’t know what he was going to say if she raised objections – and it didn’t look as though he could rely on Little Joe for help – but fortunately she just nodded briskly and said, “Of course, let me get the emerald.”  The Widow Hawkins always did have a good head in a crisis.

She bustled over to the entry area, and lifted the glass dome off of the replica emerald, catching up the gem by its chain.

“Er, no, ma’am, don’t you want to get the real one?” Hoss objected.

“Coo, no one gives the glass replica even a glance any more.  So of course that’s where I put the real one for safekeeping when I took it from the bank.”  She lowered the chain over her head, the big green emerald hanging below.  “It’s a trick I learned back in my circus days.  People have a remarkable ability to only see what they expect to see, instead of discerning the truth.”

7.

Joe hadn’t expected Hoss to bring up the Widow Hawkins’ emerald, but it seemed to have done the job.  She was ready to leave with impressive speed.  He also hadn’t expected her to mount up on her own horse, declining any interest in a carriage; she informed them with a bat of her eyes, “Coo, and didn’t I use to do trick riding in the circus?  I can still get along on a horse now.”

He was beginning to suspect that the Widow Hawkins might actually be a rather amazing woman.  Which did not mean that she was a suitable candidate to be the fourth Mrs. Ben Cartwright.  They had to stay focused, keep her away from Pa, and save him from a decision that could plainly only lead to disaster and regret, for Ben and for the entire family.

They rode out of town, out to the closest Ponderosa line shack.  It was the best place Joe and Hoss had been able to come up with – out of the way, no passersby, and not somewhere Ben would expect the Widow Hawkins to be.

She took the dusty interior of the shack in without a flinch, but did comment, “Coo, and I thought Benjamin would have been here to meet us.”

“Uh, no, ma’am,” Joe said quickly.  “I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”  And because he didn’t like the way the glint in her eye was promising more questions, he hurriedly added, “We’ll just take care of the horses.”

There were uneasy conversations to be had outside too, though.  Hoss was looking distinctly uncomfortable as they tended to the horses, so it wasn’t a surprise when he said, “Little Joe, I dunno about all this…”

“We agreed, Hoss, we have to keep her away from Pa tonight.  And it was your idea to bring the emerald into the business.”

Hoss squirmed.  “I know, I know.  But, well – don’t it sort of seem like we might’ve just kidnapped her?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Joe said firmly.  “This isn’t kidnapping.”

“I mean, we brought her away from her home to another place.  And supposing she wants to go back home…?”

“We can’t let her do that!”

Hoss nodded unhappily.  “Right, so we brought her here and we’re keeping her here…ain’t that kidnapping?”

Maybe, but that didn’t mean Joe was going to admit to it.  “She came willingly!”

“But we lied to her about her emerald…”

“Oh – stop fussing, it’s for a good cause!  We have to do it for Pa.”

“Yeah,” Hoss said, a little steadier, and nodded.  “We’re doing it to help Pa.”

“Right,” Joe said firmly.  “And Pa really needs our help, when he’s planning to propose to the Widow Hawkins!”

“Lord love a duck!” the widow’s voice came from the – Joe now realized – open doorway of the line shack.  She emerged herself, looking surprised and pink-cheeked.  “Dear Benjamin is planning to propose tonight?”

How much had she heard?  Probably not the kidnapping part, or she’d look more upset.  “Well, um, uh, ma’am,” was all Joe managed, and a glance at Hoss’ face made it clear he wasn’t going to do any better.

The Widow Hawkins clasped her hands together.  “Isn’t that just like Benjamin, to do something so impulsive.  Though he has been so attentive lately!”

That was not something Joe wanted to hear more about.  “Uh, yes, ma’am.  We’re almost done here – maybe you should go back inside…”

He didn’t feel in any proper frame of mind to try to persuade her, so it was lucky she nodded and said, “Yes, of course, I have so much to think about now…”

She drifted back inside, and Joe turned a despairing glance on Hoss.  “She’s going to want to talk about Pa courting her all evening, isn’t she?”

Hoss sighed.  “I can’t say it’s the most cheerful prospect for a long conversation.”

It was nauseating, was what it was.  “Maybe we could just lock the door with the Widow Hawkins inside and light out for other parts…”

“Surely I didn’t just hear a plot to hold the Widow Hawkins hostage, now did I?” said a deep voice from the nearby shadows, and two big hands closed on Hoss’ and Joe’s shoulders.

It could have been the sheriff, or an outlaw, or a cattle rustler, but instead it was worse than any of those.  It was Ben Cartwright.

Joe gulped.  “Oh – hey, Pa,” he squeaked.  Next to him, Hoss had gone white.

“Don’t hey, Pa me!  What the devil is going on here?”

“Oh – this?  Don’t worry.  We can explain,” Joe said, even though they definitely could not.  Not in a way that would make Pa happy, anyway.  “How, uh, how’d you end up finding us?”

Ben glared at them, dark eyes even darker in the moonlight.  And with fury.  “I went to visit Clementine Hawkins this evening, on very important business, only to find her gone.  And between your horse—”  A jab of the finger at Joe.  “—and your size—”  Hoss now.  “—it wasn’t hard for the neighbors to tell me exactly who she had left with.  And it wasn’t hard either to guess that you might make for the closest Ponderosa line shack, if you were trying to get out of sight.”

So much for picking a place Pa wouldn’t think of.

“Now explain to me,” Ben continued in low and dangerous tones, “just what this is all about!”

Joe was searching for the right words, the correct combination to present this in the most reasonable, even the most altruistic, way possible.  While he was still searching, Hoss blurted out, “We just couldn’t let you propose, Pa!”

“Propose?” Pa repeated in very apparent bafflement.  “Propose what?  Marriage?  To Clementine Hawkins?  All I was going to do was help her sell her emerald when I go to San Francisco tomorrow!”

And Joe knew, with a terrible sinking sensation, that this had all been an enormous, staggeringly absurd mistake.  “Sell – her emerald?” he repeated, voice half-strangled.

“But I was sure I heard different,” Hoss said in anguished tones.  “You two were talking about the future and – and everything.”

During a conversation he wasn’t supposed to be hearing.  “What Hoss means,” Joe said hurriedly, before this could somehow get even worse, “when he says heard, is, um…”

“That he overheard me at Daisy’s Café this morning,” Ben filled in, and when both sons stared at him, he shook his head.  “Hoss, you’re not small.  When you go crawling across the floor of a café, you’re not actually hidden.  And who do you think paid Daisy for the steak you left behind?”

“But – you didn’t say anything!” Hoss protested.

Ben shrugged.  “You don’t slip out on work often.  I assumed you earned it.”

“Hey,” Joe protested, “that’s not what you say when I…that is…”  He had realized a beat too late that he didn’t need Pa focusing on his efforts to slip out on work, especially when he’d done just that this morning too.  Though that was probably the least of his crimes in his father’s eyes at the moment.

Sure enough, Ben said in cold tones, “I think we’d better focus on what’s going on right now.  I don’t know what you two were thinking—”

“Benjamin?”  The Widow Hawkins’ voice rang out and all three Cartwrights jumped.

They were taking care of this particular line shack too well.  A loud, creaky door would have been real helpful tonight.

“Uh – good evening, Clementine,” Ben called towards the figure silhouetted in the shack’s doorway.

“I thought I heard your voice, ducky.  Now you three come on in and we’ll have a cozy little chat.”

She disappeared back inside, and Ben asked in a low tone, “Did you say anything to her about me proposing?”

Hoss squirmed.  “She maybe – overheard…”

Ben’s glare was eloquent, and so were his hands on their backs propelling them towards the line shack’s door.

“You sure you wouldn’t like to have this conversation alone?” Joe tried.  If they reached their horses and got enough of a head start, they might make Sacramento before Pa caught up again.

“No,” Ben said flatly, and gave them another push.

Inside, the Widow Hawkins had inexplicably managed to make the very plain interior of the shack look almost cozy.  She’d lit a fire, started coffee brewing from the cupboard of supplies, and somehow produced several lacy scarves to drape over the wooden table and chairs.  The effect was uncannily like her own home.

“Sit, sit,” she urged as they entered, bustling over to the coffee.  “I’ll pour.”

“Clementine,” Pa said in tightly controlled tones, “I believe we need to discuss certain things…”

“Yes, Benjamin, but after I pour.”

Somehow they all ended up sitting on lace-draped chairs, balancing coffee cups and, at least in Joe’s case, trying not to make eye contact with anyone in the room.

“Clementine, we really have to talk about some matters,” Ben persisted, setting his undrunk coffee on the table.  “I understand my boys may have given you some ideas—”

“Now, that really wasn’t their fault,” the Widow Hawkins said.  “It may not be lady-like to eavesdrop and I don’t say I intended to, but I did overhear a few interesting tidbits.”

“Yes,” Ben said, definitely beginning to sweat.  “And what I mean to say is—”

The Widow Hawkins held up a hand.  “Benjamin, before you go any further, let me say something.”

“Clementine, really, I—”

“No, Benjamin, I won’t marry you,” she announced.

Joe considered being relieved, but the situation still felt too delicate.  He finally tried his coffee – not bad, but not nearly strong enough.  Though it probably would have needed a shot of whiskey to really help in this setting.

“You won’t?” Ben said blankly.

The Widow Hawkins clasped her hands over her heart.  “I know this must come as a shock to you, seeing as I’ve given you reason to hope in the past.”

If trying to blackmail Pa into marrying her was a reason to hope, then sure, she’d done that.  Joe sipped his coffee and carefully didn’t look at either member of his family.

“And none knows better than I, there’s nothing as heavy as a widow’s heart.  Or a widower’s.  And so I understand why you would wish to exchange your lonely state for one of marital delights.”

Joe’s coffee caught in his throat and he coughed violently.  He did not want to contemplate Pa and the Widow Hawkins and marital delights all together.

“But with further reflection,” the widow continued, “I can see that you and I would simply not be a good match.”

“I…see,” Ben said.

The widow gave a little laugh.  “I mean, can you imagine me out in that house of yours in the middle of the Ponderosa?”

Joe could, vividly.  It was why they’d first got into this mess; the picture was so terrible.

“No, no, I like to be in town, not out in the wilderness of a big ranch.  And besides…”  The Widow Hawkins’ glance moved from Hoss to Joe, and then she leaned in closer to Ben and dropped her voice, as though this would stop them from hearing her.  “I’ve already lived an exciting life.  I want a bit of peace now, and I don’t expect there’s much of that to be had with the antics your boys get up to.  You know.”

“Yes,” Ben said grimly.  “I know.”

Well, that was…unflattering.

Maybe Pa thought so too, probably from a different angle, because he stood up abruptly and said, “I don’t suppose we really have anything else to talk about, then.  Would you still like me to help you sell your emerald in San Francisco?”

“Oh, yes, that would be most helpful,” the Widow Hawkins cooed, lifting the emerald on its chain over her head to hand to him.  “I imagine the idea that someone was coming to steal it was just a clever ruse from your sons?”

“Yes, a clever ruse,” Ben said, glaring at Hoss and Joe.  “From my clever sons.  Boys, go get the horses.”

Joe had never been so glad to bolt from a room.

8.

Not much was said on the way back to town, apart from the Widow Hawkins’ ongoing chatter about nothing in particular.  Joe was finally feeling some relief that, as bad as things were, at least Pa wasn’t going to marry her – imagine listening to that all the time!

They’d probably just be listening to Pa bellow for a long while instead.

They left the widow at her house, exiting amidst her protestations that she hoped they could all still be friends.  And finally it was just the three Cartwrights, standing by their horses.  Ben stopped with one hand on the reins, not mounting up yet, and Joe and Hoss hesitated to mount their own horses before him.

“Well,” Ben said at last, breaking a long and heavy silence.  “That was humiliating all around.”

Joe thought he saw the glimmer of a way out and took it without stopping to think.  “I don’t suppose you’d want everybody in town knowing that the Widow Hawkins turned you down, Pa?” he commented, pitching his voice for maximum innocence.

That voice never worked on Pa, who glared at him and asked icily, “Are you attempting to blackmail me, Joseph?”

Should’ve stopped to think.  Though that pretty much applied to the whole day.  “Oh no.  No, sir.  Of course not.”

“Good.  Because I don’t imagine you would like everyone to know that she turned me down because you two are too much trouble!”

Joe winced.  Yeah.  That wouldn’t do much for anyone’s reputation.  “Wouldn’t reflect real well on the family, would it?” he said vaguely.

“And to think,” Hoss remarked mournfully, “all that effort, all that wasted stew, and for nothing.”

“You know we just wanted to help, Pa,” Joe offered, for all the good it was likely to do.

Ben sighed.  “Oh, yes.  I know.  You always just want to help.”

“Well – isn’t that a sign that we’re not all bad after all?” he asked hopefully.

Joe didn’t have much hope it would work, but unexpectedly, Pa’s face softened.  “No,” he said, and even smiled.  “I never thought that.  And while I could live with a few less antics, I can’t say I mind an exciting life.”  He slung an arm around each son’s shoulders.  “What say we go get something to eat?  I don’t expect you boys had any supper.”

“No, sir, we didn’t,” Hoss said with feeling, even though he must’ve eaten a dozen rolls before they left the house.

“Fine.  We’ll have some supper, we won’t say anything to anyone about this entire unfortunate evening, and, boys?  You remember the line shacks up in the north quarter that need to be checked?”

“Yes, sir?” Joe said uneasily.  Those were the most isolated shacks, and checking them would be a long, tedious, multi-day job that could involve everything from repairing roofs to unblocking water sources.

“I’ll expect that to be taken care of by the time I get back from San Francisco,” Ben continued serenely.

Hoss and Joe both sighed and said in near-unison, “Yessir.”  Oh well, if Pa let them entirely off, it would be downright unnerving.

“Also, I assume you know where Buck and my best pair of boots are?”

Joe coughed.  “We, uh, might have an idea.”

“Good.  Cheer up,” Ben advised, and squeezed their shoulders.  “After all, this evening could have gone worse.  I could have ended up engaged to Clementine Hawkins!”

It was, indeed, a reason to be grateful.

“But, boys?  Next time you think I’m courting someone and might need you to help me?”  Pa’s hands on their shoulders tightened.  “Next time – don’t!”

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, each of which were assigned a word or phrase. The words/phrases I used were:

Lord love a duck!

She’s as ugly as a new-shorn sheep.

As heavy as a widow’s heart.

That dog won’t hunt.

Whew!

The Widow Hawkins and her emerald appeared in “The Burma Rarity.”  Daisy’s Café features in “Rich Man, Poor Man,” and Adah Menkin appeared in “The Magnificent Adah.”  Hop Sing’s Mulligan stew recipe came by way of Annie O’Toole, from “The Saga of Annie O’Toole.”