Summary: Based on the episode The Grand Swing, young Jamie’s thoughts are explored as he faces the shock and responsibility of crashing a wagon and killing a horse. Written for the 2025 Chaps and Spurs Challenge using the words Wreck, Eruption, Wall, Declaration, Launched. 

Rated: G, Word Count: 2778

Lessons in Trust

What a day this is going to be. It’s my first big load to haul and I just know I’m gonna make Mr. Cartwright proud when we meet up at the camp. After Hoss and I loaded the wagon, well mostly Hoss, we covered it and I tied it down real good. 

Hoss announced that I was ready to go when Mr. Cartwright walked up. He smiled at me. “When you lash a load down you really do a job.” 

“You bet. That canyon road’s pretty steep. I wouldn’t want anything bouncing out.” I knew the canyon road was the quickest route to the camp and he as well as Hoss and Joe took it all the time. So I reckoned it was okay for me to take it too. 

Guess I must have reckoned wrong since Mr. Cartwright got real serious and told me not to take that road. Said it was too steep for me since I didn’t have experience with it. Man, that just took all the fun out of the trip. Now I gotta drive that other safer route, according to the boss. That’s a whole 10 miles longer. I snapped the reins to get the team moving. It just ain’t fair!

*****

I came to the split and the horses naturally headed left. I reined ‘em in and glanced at the other road. Hoss gave me a good team and the wagon’s well packed; I just knew I could handle that canyon road, so I backed up and headed down the road. All was going well and the team was calm until we crested the hill. I really don’t know what happened but the team launched into a full out run. I’ve never seen ‘em do that before. Tugging on the reins and hollerin’ at ‘em I just couldn’t get ‘em to slow down. The road got steeper and they ran faster. Oh Lord, not a curve! We aren’t gonna make it. WHOA!! 

*****

“Jamie! Can you hear me, boy!” 

Shoving a deep breath into my lungs I opened my eyes to see Mr. Cartwright’s face just inches from mine. “What happened?” I felt like I’d been slammed against a stone wall. I ached all over. Guess I was either thrown from the wagon or I jumped. I figured I’d never remember which. 

“You’re not injured so get up to the top of the embankment,” he spoke in clipped words. He hauled me to my feet and gave me a strong shove. 

After I clamored up the rocky hillside I made the mistake of looking back. I’ll never forget the horror before my eyes. The wreck below was nothing but mangled wood and wheels, scattered boxes, bags, and tools, and…Chief. I squeezed my eyes shut and turned away. Two gunshots made me jump and I nearly broke down right there. 

When Mr. Cartwright climbed up the hill he led me over to Pepper and hoisted me up. My mouth flapped open but no words would come. Everything was scrambled in my brain. Fear for killing a horse, guilt for disobeying him, disappointment in myself and letting Mr. Cartwright down, confusion because of his silence. 

He led the way home, not once looking back to see if I was following. Pepper just plodded along behind Buck. All the way home, I kept wishing there’d be an eruption of anger, his booming voice yelling at me about how stupid I was, anything. His silence was killing me. 

When we got home I slid off Pepper. Hoss was there but I couldn’t look at him. He asked if I was okay, rested a hand on my back, and in his gentle voice said he’d take care of Pepper. Numbly I found myself in the house, standing in front of Mr. Cartwright’s desk. He was busy counting money, probably wondering how he’d pay for all the stuff I damaged, and for Chief. Without looking up, he told me, once again in that quiet clipped voice, to pack my things. That punched the rest of the air out of me. I-I figured he would yell at me, tell me how I let him down and make me go wait in my room for a whippin’ I know I greatly deserve. But to kick me out? Well, so be it. I said I’d be up to the main road by that evening and as soon as I got a job I’d pay him back for the wagon and the horse, and all the supplies. 

That was when he turned those black eyes on me. “Did you figure I was sending you away?”

“Sure, a-after what I…”

“Wrong. I’m leaving on a pack trip early tomorrow. And I want you to come along with me. We’ll be gone several days.”

Gee, one more thing to scramble my already confused brain. “A pack trip? W-what about what I did today?”

“We’ll get to that.” 

That cold, emotionless declaration gave me the willies. “Yessir,” was all I could manage as I backed away and headed to the stairs. I didn’t see him look back up at me with thoughtful and worried eyes. 

*****

As we left the ranch house, Mr. Cartwright told me we’d be doing something called a ‘grand swing’ around the Ponderosa. He said there are folks he’s hired to manage the perimeter areas and he, Joe, or Hoss check on them every three months or so. The further we rode through the mountains and into the plains made me wonder just how big the Ponderosa was. 

We stopped by a peaceful creek and had some fish for lunch. Guess I was too quiet, and really not feeling much like eating, ‘cause Mr. Cartwright asked about it. He guessed I was wondering about my punishment for the mess I created yesterday. When I said I was, he surprised me by asking me what I thought the punishment oughta be. Now why would he do that? I messed up, disobeyed him and all, so I figured he should be the one to tell me. I shrugged and said, “Some of the kids at school get a belt used on ‘em when they do somethin’ wrong.”

 He agreed.

“‘Course that’s for kids’ stuff. What I did was worse, much worse.”  

His next question caught me off guard. “Did you wreck that wagon deliberately?”

“No sir! ‘Of course not.”

“Then it was an accident.”

“Yessir.”

“Expensive, but still an accident.” He paused in thought. “You did disobey.”

“Yessir, I sure did.” Now I’m really feeling bad about the whole sorry mess. 

“So what we’re concerned with is the punishment for disobedience.”

“Yeah.” Well, here it comes. Now I’ll know what I’ve got coming.

“If we use that strap you’re talking about you won’t be able to sit in the saddle. We got a long ride ahead of us. Maybe we’ll figure something out along the way, unless you have an idea now.”

“No, I ain’t got any.” 

Well, no answers yet. But there it was again. He was including me in the decision. I can’t figure that out. Then he flipped the conversation to the East Ranch, where we’re going first, and somethin’ about someone named Betsy Rush making the best pie in the territory. 

*****

Before we arrived at East Ranch we heard someone chopping wood. Riding closer, we came across a couple of Squirrelly prospectors. One tried to take a potshot at Mr. Cartwright but I threw a big rock and hit his hand. They didn’t believe they were on Cartwright land, but I think they knew exactly where they were. He told ‘em to pack up and get on their horses, and we all headed on to East Ranch. 

East Ranch has got to be the most barren, God-forsaken place I’d ever seen. Dirt and desert-like for miles and not a tree insight. Mr. Cartwright told those miners to keep on riding, then he introduced me to a man and his wife, Clint and Betsy Rush, that were tendin’ the ranch. Mr. Rush said he’d had trouble with them two miners before so he promised to keep an eye out in the higher country.

I looked around and saw they had some mighty fine cattle corralled. Mr. Cartwright said he was tryin’ some crossbreeding to strengthen the herd. It looked to me like it was working, not that I know much about things like that. While Mr. Rush was talking about the herd I noticed Mrs. Rush was a bit uncomfortable and she went back inside. Mr. Cartwright said she made the best apple pies but it didn’t look like we were gonna get some this trip. Later, when I brought it up he said if there were ranch issues, Clint would have said something, so he figured it was personal and that it was best to stay out of it. Yeah, I’ve learned that the hard way a few times. 

The next folks we came across was an old Indian and his granddaughter who wasn’t more that ten or eleven years old. She killed one of the Ponderosa beeves and Mr. Cartwright praised her for shooting straight and true, like her grandfather. We helped her dress it and hang the beef and Mr. Cartwright promised them a better rifle and some basic supplies. When we rode away I had to ask about the rifle and the dead steer. I had to know why Mr. Cartwright made those promises. 

When we stopped in a creek to water the horses I spoke up, “Why give Tall Pony a new rifle? He’s too old and sick to hunt wolves and mountain lions for the bounties and the girl is too young so wouldn’t that mean he’d just use it to kill more cattle?” 

“It’s possible.”

“Then why are you sendin’ him the rifle?” His answer was nothing like I was expecting to hear.  He said he’d known Tall Pony for a long time and owed him a big debt. He said the Indian would only kill Ponderosa beef if he needed it to survive, and if that was true then he would consider part of his debt paid to the old Indian. The missing son, Mr. Cartwright said, was a town Indian and was too dependent on liquor so he begs for money for whiskey. He couldn’t hold a job for anything, much less care for his family. 

“That’s just plain awful!”

“It’s part of a plain awful pattern that destroyed a proud people. That’s the debt I was talking about. We all of us share it, or ought to.”

I didn’t know that much about the Indians around these parts, but his words sure gave me a lot to think about as we rode on. 

*****

When we arrived at South Ranch, overseen by Bill Collins, we encountered two men from a neighboring ranch who were stealin’ Ponderosa calves. They claimed it was ‘mavericking’ seein’ as how the calves were all ‘trapped in mud from a bad rainfall’ and were unbranded, but Mr. Cartwright and I noticed how easily they followed our cows, um, their mamas. He tied the men to their horses and we took them to town. There we met up with Mrs. Rush who was headin’ to Carson City to see her folks. She said her husband came into town but didn’t seek her out. Instead he went to the saloon and got drunk and got into a brawl. Turns out, by the Sheriff’s account, the two prospectors kept hanging around the ranch causing trouble and came back to  turn out the cattle. Mr. Rush chased them into town in order to get them arrested but they chose to fight instead. When Mr. Cartwright arrived, the Sheriff let Mr. Rush go. Then he said he was quittin’ the ranch but he would round all the cattle up first. 

On our way back to East Ranch I got to thinkin’ about all the men we’d encountered. The prospectors and the rustlers got jail time, but Mr. Rush was let go. 

“What about Clint Rush?”

“He said he’d be back at the ranch.”

“Yeah, but he said he’d be on the look out for those miners earlier.” Yet, they got close enough to let the cattle loose.

“That’s right. He did.”

“Boy, he sure messed up, didn’t he?”

Mr. Cartwright gave me an odd look when I said that. 

I looked all around and couldn’t see any sign of Mr. Rush. “You know, I bet he rode for the hills. I bet it’ll take us two or three days to round up that herd–”

I looked ahead at the sound of bawling cows.  

Mr. Cartwright turned to me with a bit of a knowing glint in his eye, “You were saying?”

I lowered my eyes and replied, “I talk too much.”

Mr. Rush approached us and gave Mr. Cartwright a tally of injured cows, but overall the herd was in good shape. Just then a buckboard came in and Mrs. Rush got out. Boy was Mr. Rush glad to see his wife. They asked us to stay to dinner of steak, potatoes and apple pie but Mr. Cartwright said we had a long way to go to get home and promised to stay the next time he came by. I kinda got the feeling he was lettin’ the couple have some time alone. 

*****

As we entered the last leg of our trip home, Mr. Cartwright had us stop at an old dead tree. 

“This is one of my favorite spots. I always like to stop here for one last look before starting for home. Isn’t that beautiful?”

I looked across the grassy meadow to the blue mountains in the distance. “Yeah, it really is.” But my mind was drifting to something not as pleasant as that view. 

After we tied up our horses, he leaned against the old tree and sighed. “It even smells pretty.”

I faced him and tried to agree but I needed to say something else. “I guess we got some talkin’ to do, huh?”

“Talking?”

“About a horse I killed and a wagon I wrecked and what kind of punishment I get.”

Mr. Cartwright straightened up and looked me in the eye. “I thought we decided you were too old to have your pants warmed with a belt.” 

“Yeah. But when you do something bad, something wrong, you gotta pay.”

“I agree with that Jamie. You break the law, you answer to the courts.”

“Like the prospectors and the rustlers.” 

 “What do you do when an animal gets sick or gets hurt?”

I was puzzled by this turn in the conversation. “Y-You take care of it or call a vet.”

“When a man gets sick, like Tall Pony, or they just go off the road…”

Like Mr. Rush? I think I was seein’ somethin’ here. “You take care of ‘em. You don’t yell at ‘em, or swear at ‘em, or fire ‘em…”

“Well, sometimes I yell and sometimes I fire ‘em.”  

The light was dawning. “Mr. Rush all but broke his back to make things right again, but how did you know he would?”

“He’s a good man. An awfully good man. When a good man makes a mistake he does everything he can to make it right again.”  

I thought on that real hard, but before I could answer, Mr. Cartwright changed the subject. “Jamie, have you had a good look at this witness tree?” 

I looked up at the crooked branches and shrugged. “No, not really.”

“I want you to.” Mr. Cartwright’s voice was gentle, encouraging. He put his arm around me and showed me the other side of the tree.

To my surprise I saw Hoss’s and Joe’s names. “They made this swing with you too?”

“Yes they have. On various occasions.” 

I studied the names carved into the dried out trunk, imagining what brought them on this trip. “I’ll bet they have.”

“Why don’t you put your name there?” 

My breath caught until I saw Mr. Cartwrights warm smile and twinkling eyes. Then I smiled and whipped out my knife. 

The rest of the ride home was relaxing and peaceful. I learned a lot of things about other people and about Mr. Cartwright on this trip. But most of all I learned some things about myself. And I’m gonna do whatever I can to pay him back for the horse and wagon by proving the trust and forgiveness Mr. Cartwright has shown me is not in vain. 

———-

A/N – *conversations quoted from The Grand Swing.

If you think Adam’s name should have been there, you might enjoy my story in the Library, The Witness Tree.