Summary:  There’s turkey and then there’s turkey.  Is it all a distraction and an excuse?  Or is it real?
Rating:  G  (7,300 words)

Talking Turkey?

The afternoon had been quiet, maybe too quiet.  Ben wouldn’t have minded a few interruptions in his self-enforced exile at his desk to do ranch paperwork.  Adam was down at the branding corrals, working with the roundup crew to check and brand the remaining steers for the cattle drive.  Little Joe had gone with him, much to his older brother’s dismay.  “I can’t work and watch him!”  Adam had complained.  Ben had fixed his youngest son with a firm look and assured Adam that Joe would behave.  Joe’s head had nodded so fast in agreement and desperation to go that Ben feared it might fall off.  It had been a pleasant and trouble free summer and that was Joe’s problem; he liked excitement and there had been very little for months. Today, Hoss had been working with Charlie at the back of the barn on some wagon repairs, at least Ben thought he had until he heard footsteps on the porch and the door was flung open.

“Pa, you gotta tell Joe to stop tellin’…”  Hoss stopped abruptly; he had been going to say ‘lies’ but he didn’t want to get his little brother into that much hot water.  One thing Pa didn’t tolerate was lies.  Joe wasn’t really telling lies, just stretching the truth a bit.

“Telling what, Hoss?”  Ben raised an eyebrow and then set his pencil down and looked up at his middle son and waited for him to finish his sentence.

“Well, making stuff up.  He had me and Charlie ridin’ all the way out to the branding corrals.  Said Adam had had a’ accident.  Made it seem real serious.”  Hoss explained.

“And was he hurt?”  Ben asked.  Knowing full well that if there had been a serious accident he would have heard about it from one of the hands by now as it was almost suppertime.

Hoss shuffled his feet, “Kinda.  He cut his hand.., but it weren’t near as bad as Joe was makin’ out.  Listening to Joe you’da thought Adam was pretty near dead.”

Ben hid a smile, Hoss obviously didn’t think it was a laughing matter and he might have been right, “Alright, I’ll have a talk to him.  But I think you’ll find he’s just livening things up, for a twelve-year-old boy, things have been pretty quiet this summer.”  Ben smiled.

Joe Cartwright stuffed hay into the net and hung it on the stall wall for his pony, Cochise.  He was bored.  Chores always bored him but today they were particularly dull.  It had been a dull day.  He had thought that helping Adam with the branding might have provided some excitement but there had only been a few calves left to brand and they were all docile.  His older brother had dealt with them in short time and then gone on to tally the herd.  There was nothing more boring than counting steers.  Maybe that’s why folk suggested counting sheep when you couldn’t sleep.  Counting steers would work just as well Joe thought.  The only excitement had been when Adam had snagged his hand on a piece of wire left carelessly on a fence post and had sent Joe for some salve and a bandage from Hop Sing.  He had told Hoss all about it and maybe exaggerated a little but he didn’t expect his brother to charge off to check.  Hoss sure had been mad when he got back.  He was startled from his daydream by a firm hand descending on his shoulder.

“There’s still plenty to do little brother.”  Adam turned him around and fixed him with a stern expression.  “If you’re done with Cochise, then the chickens need feeding.”

Joe sighed as if the cares of the world were on his shoulders.  “I’m goin’.”  His movement toward the grain bin was slow and sullen.

Adam shook is head and went back to his own chores, hampered only slightly by his bandaged hand.

The chickens roamed the yard all day and it was Joe’s task to feed them and then lead them into the hen house with grain to shut them up for the night.  In winter these tasks could be combined but in summer, the chickens would not go in to roost until dusk, so Joe fed them before supper and saved a little grain for the difficult ones when it came time to shut them up.  He scattered the corn in a desultory manner until the dipper was almost empty then he threw the remaining grain making the chickens leap up and flutter around him.  He grinned, it was fun to see the birds fluttering and squawking after the seed.  He stamped a foot and several hens flew up in fright.  Then he did it again and then he ran through them making a noise.  The resulting cacophony only serving to make him do it again.

The yell from the barn door made him stop halfway through the flock.  “Joe Cartwright, you stop that this minute.”

Joe hung his head and acknowledged his fault.  “Sorry, Jake.  I was just…”

“You was just causin’ trouble, that’s what you was just.”  The old foreman muttered.  “Birds like chickens ain’t meant to fly.”  With that he stomped back into the barn.

“Then why do they got wings?”  Joe grumbled back.

Once a question was in Joe’s head he had to ask it and he wouldn’t settle until he had an answer that satisfied him.  He tried several times at supper but his brothers or his father were always talking and interrupting them would only get a reprimand. Finally, after Pa had inquired about Adam’s hand, listen to the tally figures, checked with Hoss on the barn repairs and generally commented on every aspect of the day’s work, it was his turn.

“Why do chickens have wings if they don’t fly?”  He asked, his cheeky face with its button nose wrinkled with curiosity.

Ben didn’t hesitate long, he was used to Joe’s endless questions which seemingly had no relevance to any recent event.  “Well, son, chickens do a fly a little but their wings aren’t really big enough to lift their bodies far off the ground.”

“I see’d a wild turkey fly over a fence once.”  Hoss offered.

“Wild turkeys are real strong fliers, but I don’t think chickens do much flying, no need to if we feed them.”  Adam joined in.

Ben nursed his coffee cup and pondered a little longer on Joe’s question.  As a father it was always wise to check what was behind a son’s curiosity in case some experiment was planned.  He had learned this the hard way when his eldest son was growing up.  “Any reason why you want the chickens to fly?”

“Nah, not really, Pa.  I was just wonderin’.”  Joe responded.

Ben settled back only partly satisfied.  He’d keep an eye on the hens for a few days just in case.  In his imagination he could see chicken races or some such being planned.

In fact Joe forgot all about the chickens before the evening was over, he had better things to occupy him.  He was thinking up new ways to annoy his brothers.  There just wasn’t anything happening around here, he decided.  A couple of games of checkers against Hoss which he won, and a disastrous game against Adam which he lost because his older brother spotted him cheating, had brought bedtime around again.  He just had to think of something.

The next morning a golden opportunity presented itself, or at least golden, once Joe’s active imagination had worked on it for a minute or two.   Pa would have said he was eavesdropping but he couldn’t help it if Hop Sing was talking to Pa in a loud voice just as he reached the kitchen.

“Now don’t you worry Hop Sing.  You go and look after Number One cousin if he needs you.” Pa was saying.

“Lil’ Joe have no one look after him.  You go Placerville, not back ‘fore tomorrow.”  Hop Sing looked really worried.

“I’ll make sure Joe understands he has to behave and look after himself.  Adam will be in town most of the day but Hoss is only helping finishing the tally in the north pasture.  Joe can ride out to him for the day.”  As he said it, Ben wondered about the wisdom of leaving Joe to his own devices even for a short time.  If Hoss wasn’t expecting him it might take an hour or more for the two to meet up.  That boy could get into more trouble in a minute than most boys in a day.  He shook his head.  He had left Adam and Hoss at far younger ages.  He’d just have to trust the boy.  He was riding in the opposite direction and couldn’t afford the time to make a detour to ensure Hoss knew Joe was in his charge.  “I’ll call by Shaughnessy’s and I’m sure she’ll come over and cook a meal for the boys tonight.”

Hop Sing nodded, satisfied that his family would be well cared for in his absence.

“Ah, there you are Little Joe, just the person I need to talk to.”

“Who, me, Pa?”  Joe’s innocent expression would have been comical if Ben had the time to notice it.

All the time Ben was explaining the arrangements, Joe was plotting and planning a trick to play on his older brother.

“I’ll be fine, Pa.  I’m not a baby.  I could just stay here or go down to the lake.”

“You will do as you’re told.  I don’t want you wandering around on your own while that band of renegade Piautes is in the area.”

Joe groaned.  “No one’s seen these Piautes ‘ceptin’ old Jonas Trent and he probably saw a turkey in the brush.  I’ve been out to the lake since then and never saw nuthin’.” He complained, then realized his error as Ben’s eyes bored into him.

“Oh, you have, have you?”  We might need to talk about that when I get back.

“I was just ‘zaggerating, Pa.  You how Hoss says I do that all the time.  I only went a little way to the lake not right there.”

Ben grunted.  “Well, I don’t have time to go into it now.  You just make sure that you ride straight out to Hoss and stay with him until he comes back for supper.”

“Yes, sir.”  Joe kept his face straight as his plans began to take shape.

Hoss had been working hard all morning tallying, which he hated.  He’d do almost anything with the stock and enjoy it, but counting ’em was his least favorite task.  As the warmth of the afternoon made him drowsy he had to re-count several times but now he was pretty sure he had an accurate figure.  He rode around the herd with Jake and Charlie checking all was in order one last time and allowed his thoughts to drift to supper.  Maybe Hop Sing would be cooking roast pork and sweet ‘taters, or maybe a hock of ham with string beans, or just perhaps it’d be chicken and dumplings.   As he contemplated his favorite subject, he caught a glimpse of a rider angling across the meadow toward him.  What’s Little Joe doin’ way out here.  He’s ‘sposed to be helping Hop Sing.   He voiced exactly that thought as Joe drew nearer enough to hear him.

Joe reined in his pony and came to a stop beside his older brother.  He had to look way up as Chubby was a sight taller than Cochise and with Hoss atop the big black he had to crane his neck to make eye contact.  He’d had a great day riding down by the lake by himself, skipping stones, swimming and fishing even if he hadn’t caught anything but now was the time to get his alibi fixed. “Pa said I should come out here and help.”  Joe replied, telling the truth, if not the whole truth.

“Why ain’t ya helpin’ Hop Sing?”

“He ain’t there.  And Pa figured it best I come out to you, bein’ as how Adam’s doing banking and boring stuff in town.”

Hoss had just been thinking of food and the news that Hop Sing wasn’t at home pushed all other thoughts from his head along with a good measure of common sense.  “Hop Sing’s gone!”

“Yup,”  Joe almost smirked but he remembered Adam’s advice on how to keep a poker face and restrained himself.  “Left this morning.”

“When’s he gonna be back.”

Joe raised an eyebrow and eased himself in the saddle to hide his merriment.  This was going better than he had hoped.  “Didn’t say he would be back.”  He replied, which was perfectly true as far as it went.  Hop Sing hadn’t spoken of a date for his return.

Hoss’s dreams of roast pork and his other favorites were fading fast. “Does Pa know he’s gone?”

“Yup, that’s why he said I should come out here.”  Joe tried to give the impression that it was all settled.

“But what about supper and who’s cookin’ for us.”  The worry lines on Hoss’ forehead deepened.

Joe shrugged, as if food was a minor concern, “Guess Adam is when he gets back from town.  Course he might decide to stay in the saloon with one of them girls.”  Joe tipped his head on one side as if considering a vital question.  “Why’s he like them saloon girls so much?”

“Never you mind Adam’s business.”  Hoss admonished with a faint blush. “He won’t stay in town with Pa away and Hop Sing gone.”

“He don’t know Hop Sing’s gone.”  Joe corrected.

Then another thought occurred to Hoss,  “We ain’t gotta put up with Adam’s cooking.  I mean Pa done said somethin’ about getting’ Hop Sing back.”

Joe shook his head, “He said he might call by Shaughnessy’s but I ain’t sure whether he said on the way to Placerville or on the way back.  He never said nothin’ about getting’ Hop Sing back.”  Now Joe had to cough behind his hand to hide his expression.  It was all going so well.  Hoss really thought Hop Sing was gone for good.

Hoss looked as though he had been pole axed.  Sure Hop Sing threatened to leave every week but he’d never actually done it before.  He couldn’t imagine life without Hop Sing’s cooking.

Adam rode into the yard as the late afternoon sun was cooling and dismounted by the barn.  He was about to lead Sport into his stall when an agitated Hoss accosted him.  “Adam, Hop Sing’s gone and Pa ain’t here and there ain’t no supper and…”

Adam calmly shook his brother’s arm from his and held up a hand, “Slow down and tell me what ever it is slowly.”

Neither Hoss or Little Joe could match Adam for a cool head under fire and it exasperated them both when he refused to get het up over anything they considered a disaster.   Hoss took a deep breath and repeated his complaints while his older brother folded his arms and watched with an infuriatingly calm expression.

“Pa’s gone to Placerville, you knew that, or at least you would have if you’d been listening at breakfast.”  Adam kept the same expression as he asked “Now, what’s this about Hop Sing?  He’s gone where?”

Hoss felt an overwhelming desire to throttle his older brother but he managed to restrain it.  “He didn’t say, just up and left.”

“And you were here when this happened?”

“Well no, course I weren’t.  I was out tallying like Pa told me. Little Joe came out to the herd and told me all about it.”

“Ah, a little light is shed.”  Adam nodded and surveyed Hoss’s agitated expression calmly. “And what exactly did our little brother tell you?”

Hoss’ patience was almost gone.  “Like I done told you, he said Hop Sing was gone and there weren’t no supper… leastways he said you was cooking it and maybe Pa would get Shaughnessy but he didn’t know when.”

“Joe!”  Adam’s yell made Hoss step back a pace.  It certainly didn’t need to be loud, for as Adam had suspected, the youngest Cartwright was right outside the barn door listening.

“Oh, Hi Adam.”  The raised hand and the ‘oh so’ innocent smile was all Adam needed.  “Where’s Hop Sing gone?”

“Hop Sing?”  Joe tried to bluff it out.

“Yeah, Hop Sing.  You told Hoss he had gone, but omitted to say where.”  Adam leaned back against the stall, arms folded and with a self-satisfied smirk.

Joe knew bluffing with Adam was a lost cause, like Pa, Adam could see through him in a minute. “Oh, he’s gone to town to look after Number one cousin.  He’s sick…  not Hop Sing, he’s not sick, Number one cousin’s the one who’s sick.”

“So he’s coming back when his cousin is better?”  Adam elaborated for Hoss’ benefit.

“Sure he is.  Pa said it might be a few days though and you could cook tonight and he’d swing by Shaughnessy’s place and see if she could come over.”  As he was speaking Joe watched the color rising up Hoss’ neck and over his cheeks.  Hoss was mad. Could be it was him he was mad at?  For safety’s sake he sidled around to put Adam between them.

“You little… you never said he’d gone to town.  Let me at him, Adam.”

Hoss tried to grab his baby brother but Adam moved between them laughing.

“Did you ask him?”  Adam squeezed Joe between arm and body and grinned.  “You see with little brother, here, you got ask the right questions.”

“I’ll ask him some questions right now.”  Hoss spluttered.

“Nope, you’ll go see what we have in the cupboards that I can cook for supper while little brother here helps me with the chores, yours as well as his own.”

Hoss subsided into a rumbling bear while Joe’s indignation rose.  “Why I gotta do his chores?” he asked.

Adam shrugged, “You rather I left you alone with Hoss while I go cook supper?”

“No, I guess not.”  Joe reluctantly conceded.

By the time Adam and Joe made it to the kitchen Hoss had emptied the cupboards of everything he thought Adam might manage to cook without ruining it.  There was ham which he figured could be sliced and fried along with plenty of eggs, potatoes, onions, and carrots.  Hop Sing hadn’t had time to make bread, so what remained of yesterday’s loaf would have to be fried too but that was fine with Hoss.  He’d searched hard and found half an apple pie which Hop Sing must have hidden away last night or he’d would have found it for his midnight snack.

Adam lifted up a few items and grinned, “How many am I cooking for?”

“Three of us, of course…  Aww…  Adam!”  Hoss grinned too as he realized his brother was teasing.  “I’m plumb hungry.”

“You’re always plumb hungry.  So since you’re the hungriest you can peel the potatoes and carrots and chopped the onion.  It always makes me cry”   He took the biggest skillet off the hook and set it on the stove and quickly dropped a large portion of hog lard into it.  “I’ll just fry everything.  Joe you fetch me the small skillet for the eggs and then go lay the table.”

The small skillet was hanging on a hook inside Hop Sing’s pantry and Joe could only just reach high enough to unhook it.  He handed it to his older brother and pasted on his best puppy dog look.  “Do we hafta eat at the table?  Pa ain’t here and we could sit by the fire and make toast.”

Hoss was young enough to want the same thing and besides he just knew Hop Sing had a stash of marshmallows someplace.  “Yeah, Adam, we could toast marshmallows too.  I think I know where Hop Sing keeps ’em.”

Adam worked hard at producing a big brother frown before he turned around from the stove.  “You know Pa likes us to eat at the table like civilized folk.”  He said, sternly.  In truth he liked their idea better too and his brothers knew it.

“Aww… come on, Adam.”  Joe pleaded.

The expression on both boys’ faces was too much for him. Surely it wouldn’t hurt just this once and Pa would never know.  The little boy in him conquered the man and he nodded.  “Alright, but no butter or crumbs or anything on the couch or Pa’s chair and we sweep up afterwards.”

Hoss slapped him on the back, almost knocking him on to the stove.  “You’re the best, Adam.”

“Yeah, the best big brother ever.”  Joe chimed in.

Adam sniffed and turned back to the stove, “Yeah, well, don’t overdo it.”

The ham was a little burnt, the eggs solid and the potatoes had black edges but no one complained as they gathered around the fire and ate.  With the plates cleared away and washed, Adam brought bread and butter to the fireplace along with coffee for himself and hot chocolate for his brothers.  He handed the bread to Hoss, “Get toasting.”

“Where’s the jam?”  Joe asked. Then jumped up almost spilling his drink to go fetch it.

Adam had drifted into a dream, the warmth of the fire and a full belly made it easy to fall asleep. He wasn’t sleeping just remembering a time when he was younger than Joe’s age and there was no jam, just bread and milk for supper.  He was pleased that Joe had never had to suffer such hardships.  Those times had been hard but he had never felt deprived of love and he never resented his brother for the difference in their childhood.  The trail had been an adventure and one he wouldn’t have missed for any amount of jam.

“Adam…  Adam!”  the second time, Joe almost yelled in his brother’s ear.

“Uh… oh sorry,  I was thinking.”  Adam replied.

Hoss chuckled, a deep down sound.  “Like Pa says, sometimes you think too much.”

“What was ya thinking about?”  Joe asked as he set the jam down instead of handing it to his brother and began to butter his own toast.

Adam smiled, “Oh, about coming out here from Boston and how we never had jam, just bread and milk.”

Joe’s eyes widened, “You’re funnin’ us, ain’t ya?”

“Nope, unlike some I could mention, I don’t exaggerate nor joke about important things.”  Adam ruffled Joe’s curls to show he was not seriously criticizing.  “When Pa and I traveled west, we didn’t have much money and I know Pa went hungry more than once so that I could have some bread and milk.”

“Yeuch, I hate that.  I wouldn’t eat it.”  Joe exclaimed screwing his face up in disgust.

“I guess you would if’n you was hungry and I’d sure be powerful hungry with no meat and potatoes.”  Hoss’ face mirrored his younger brother’s.

“Well we did get the occasional rabbit or sage hen, but that was after we left Independence.”  Adam sat forward and fixed his youngest brother with a look.  “Bedtime.  C’mon, Hoss and I won’t be far behind you.  We’ll need to be up early with Hop Sing’s chores as well as Pa’s to add to our own.”

Hoss got to his feet, “I’m comin’ up now.  But I won’t sleep or if I do I’ll be dreamin’ about food.  Right about now roast turkey and all the trimmin’s sounds good.”

Adam shook his head in amusement.  Only Hoss could think about a roast dinner after the amount they had just eaten.

“Where is that boy?”  Adam yelled at Hoss as both brothers returned from a fruitless search of the house and yard.  “The firewood hasn’t been split, there’s no kindling for the stove and he hasn’t even touched his yard chores.”

Hoss shrugged, “Cochise’s gone, so I guess he went off somewheres and ain’t back yet.”

“Just wait ‘til I get my hands on him.”  Adam railed, doing a pretty good impression of Pa in a bad mood.

Hoss decided that doing his own chores and maybe Joe’s too was preferable to listening to his older brother ranting and raving about the youngest member of the family, so he turned and went into the barn.  Adam followed and in between raking, tossing, feeding and grooming he continued his diatribe on the shortcomings of Joseph Francis Cartwright.

Hoss kept quiet and prayed hard that Little Joe wouldn’t put in an appearance until Adam’s temper had cooled a little, if it ever did.

In fact Joe was having a grand time.  He had waited until his brothers were out on the range and had saddled up the minute he was sure they wouldn’t come back for some forgotten item.  His plan for the day was a ride down to the Carson Valley.  He knew a nice spot there where he could give Cochise a long gallop, which both of them would enjoy.  The remainder of the day was to be spent looking for Indian sign in the foothills.  He really didn’t believe there was any danger from renegades.  Pa was always too cautious when it came to his sons, particularly his youngest.

The race across the meadows had been exhilarating and he cooled Cochise with a leisurely ride to the outskirts of Carson City.  He didn’t dare enter the town in case he was spotted and word got back to his father.  Carson City was definitely off limits.  He headed west from the city and began to climb into the foothills.  When he was about two thirds of the way to the summit he dismounted and hunkered down to eat the lunch he had brought with him, a chunk of cheese and a thick slab of bread followed by an apple.  With his stomach satisfied he lay back with his hands behind his head and stared at the bluest of blue skies.  His eyes closed and he slept.

He was awoken by a strange noise and he jerked awake and into a half sitting position.  He was so startled by what he saw that his eyes went from sleepy to wide open in seconds.  Away to his right there were feathers moving through the brush.  He swallowed hard and focused on the spot but the feathers were gone.  He lay flat again, his heart pumping.  He checked his knife was still in its sheath and glanced to where Cochise munched contentedly on a patch of grass, his rifle in the scabbard on her saddle.  The Indians must surely see the pinto and a horse to steal would be irresistible.  Stay calm he told himself.  Easier said than done.  He tried to work out exactly where he was and where the owner of the feathers was located.   Hmm… just north west of Kings Canyon and the Indians must be along the ridge above Carson City.  If he moved they would see him if they hadn’t already.  He carefully rolled over onto his stomach and peered at the ridge.

How would he ever explain this to Pa?  Well, he wouldn’t have to, it would be his body that Pa would see.  He was just imagining how his father and brothers would receive the news of his death at the hand of a renegade band of Paiutes, when he saw two moccasin clad feet right in front of him.

Hoss glanced across at his older brother.  Yep, ol’ Adam’s temper was cooling, his residual anger was now concentrated on the carrots and onions he was chopping to add to the beef in the stewpot.  Course the stew should have been cooking much earlier and Hoss worried that the beef would be tough or uncooked or they would be eating very late tonight.

“You want I should peel the ‘taters?”  Hoss asked as gently as he knew how.

“Well it would be nice if someone did something around here.” Adam snapped back.

Hoss had long since ceased to be worried by Adam’s anger and he shrugged his shoulders and began choosing the biggest potatoes from the sack by the kitchen door.  “Jus’ askin’.  No need for you to get all het up about it.”

Adam paused in the murder of an inoffensive carrot, “Sorry.  I’m just worried about Little Joe.  He should have been home hours ago.”

Hoss nodded.  So big brother’s anger had turned to concern, like Pa’s always did when one of them was missing or late for chores or a meal.  If’n Joe was to walk through that door right now the concern would be anger all over again.  “He’ll be fine.  He’s gotten himself into something and forgotten the time, is all.”

Adam turned back to his carrots, “Yeah, it’s what he’s gotten himself into that worries me.  Maybe we should go look for him.”

“You got an idea where?”

Adam was about to respond that he had no ideas, when a horse was heard coming into the yard.

“There you go.  He’s home safe and sound.”  Hoss grinned.

Adam slammed down the peeling knife and wiped his hands on his pants, “He won’t be safe and sound when I’ve finished with him,” he growled.

Both brothers made it to the kitchen door at once and Hoss stood back to allow Adam through ahead of him, then ran into the back of his older brother who hadn’t moved from the doorway.  Hoss peered over his brother’s shoulder and saw why he had stopped.  The horse being led into the barn was a buckskin and the person leading it was Pa.  There was no sign of Little Joe.

“We weren’t expecting you back this soon.”  Adam greeted his father with a handshake when they met by Buck’s stall.

“Got finished early and figured I could make it home for supper.”  Ben replied.  He glanced around as if looking for something or someone.  “Where’s Little Joe?  Not like him not to be first out to meet me.”

Hoss threw Adam, a here we go, look.   “Here, let me do that, Pa.  You must be tired after your trip.” Staying with Buck was preferable to being in the line of fire when Adam told Pa that Joe was nowhere around.

“Well, thank you, son.”  Ben’s expression changed from a smile to a wary look.  “Is there something I should know, something about Joseph maybe?”

Adam tried to look nonchalant,  “Not really, Pa.  It’s… well he isn’t home yet.”

Ben studied his oldest son for a moment,  “Home from where?”

Adam bit his lip and considered his answer, “Were not exactly sure, Pa.”

Ben placed his hands firmly on his hips and positively glared at Adam, “What you are trying not to tell me is that he went off somewhere without doing his chores and you… you who are supposed to be looking after him… don’t know where.”

Adam grimaced and then sighed, “Yeah, that’s about it.”

Ben shook his head in bewilderment, “You know that you have to supervise him every minute.”

“I thought I had.  He had enough chores to do and we were back early.”  Adam protested.

“Oh, alright.”  Ben’s sigh was the weary one of a man who had been here too many times before.  “I’m sure he hasn’t gone far.  I need some coffee and a bite to eat and if he’s not back by the time we’ve done then you can go look for him.”

Adam glanced quickly at Hoss and raised his eyebrows.  Pa had taken the news better than he had expected.

An hour later they were all finishing off ham and eggs; the stew was still cooking and would have to do another day.  Ben decided that before he left them again he’d have to get Hop Sing to teach at least one of them to cook.  All so intent on discussing where Joe might have gone that they didn’t hear a horse riding up to the barn.  The first they knew of the arrival of the youngest family member was when he burst in to the house covered in dust and full of excitement.

“Hey, Hoss you shoulda seen ‘em, hundreds of ‘em, all flying.”

Ben put on his best father look and fixed it on Joe.  “Where have you been, young man?”

“Oh, hi Pa.  You’re back early.”  Joe replied, trying to look innocent and unconcerned

“Don’t ‘Hi Pa,’ me.  It’s after seven, where on earth have you been all day.  You were told not to leave the ranch and Adam tells me your chores weren’t done.”  Ben’s voice was getting lower in tone with every syllable.

Joe threw his older brother a none too flattering look.  “I didn’t leave the ranch.”  Joe replied.  A statement which was technically true as he hadn’t crossed the fence line but he had sure been well away from the house and the yard which was what his father had meant.

Adam turned away, when would little brother learn that riling Pa when he was already riled didn’t pay dividends.

“You were in the yard but invisible, is that it?”  Ben’s temper was barely below boiling.

Joe sighed and gave up, “No, Sir.  I rode over to the meadows and then up into the hills.”

“And why are you so late back? It’s not that far.”

The excitement came back into Joe’s voice, “See Pa, I was…”  uh, just what was I doing,   “Well, I was… uh,  resting and there was this huge flock of turkeys and they came up to the ridge and then they just took off and flew down into the valley, squawking and gobbling like all get out, an’ there was dogs chasing ‘em and a man trying to get them together and it was real exciting  I had ta watch to see if he caught ‘em all… and he did… least I think he did, cause they headed off towards Carson City.”

Adam raised an eyebrow and Hoss grunted, neither believing the tall story.  Ben fairly bristled.

“I have never heard such a cock and bull story in my life,” he roared.  “You don’t do your chores, then you take off heaven knows where and then try to excuse yourself with a blatant lie.”

Joe’s expression was one of hurt and disappointment.  His great news was not only dismissed out of hand but he was called a liar.  Sure he stretched the truth a bit sometimes but he wasn’t this time.  “But it’s the truth, Pa, honest!”

The ‘honest’ was one word too much for Ben.  “You go to your room and think over what you’ve told me and maybe a night with no supper will teach you a lesson you so obviously need.”  Ben pointed at the stairs and Joe reluctantly followed the pointing finger.

For the next couple of days Joe was subdued.  He didn’t like being at odds with Pa but he couldn’t tell Pa the truth when he had already told it once and not been believed.

Hoss and Adam might complain about their little brother from time to time but they missed the pranks and the laughter that he brought to their lives.  It was just unnatural for him to be this quiet and for any of them to be at odds with Pa was uncomfortable for everyone.  Things came to a head on the third day as the brothers were finishing off a barn repair.

“What we gonna do about Joe?”  Hoss asked.

Adam shrugged, “I guess until Joe tells Pa the truth about what he was doing and why he was late home, there isn’t much we can do.”

“I reckon he is telling the truth,” Hoss said, softly.  “Aw, I know he stretches it a mite but he don’t never lie to Pa… you maybe, but not Pa.”

Adam chuckled.  “You maybe right.  And he isn’t acting like a boy who has a secret, just one who is wrongly accused perhaps.”  He gathered up the tools and faced Hoss.  “There is one way we might find out… go to Carson City and look for these flying turkeys.  But if we don’t find anyone who knows about them then we have to accept that Joe has moved from stretching to all out lies.”

A few hours later the two brothers were propping up the bar in the Red Dog Saloon on main street and wondering who might know about turkeys.

“I feel sorta stupid askin’ folks if they seen flying turkeys.”  Hoss drank a cold draught of beer and leaned on the bar.

“Yeah, it’s not an easy subject to bring up on first acquaintance and I’m sure not asking anyone I know, they’d think I was loco.”  Adam stared into his beer and tried to find a solution. “maybe we could ask around town, see if anyone has a turkey to sell for meat.  Make a nice change.

Hoss began thinking of a roast turkey dinner and his stomach began to rumble.  “What you go say that for, I’m plumb hungry now.”

“Hey, Adam, Hoss, what you doing in town, don’t see much of you these days.  Ben keeping you too busy?”  A rancher friend of the Cartwrights’ was coming up to the bar and signaling for a beer.

“Hello, Monty.  Too much work to do on the ranch to get into town.”  Adam replied.  “We are picking up a few supplies that Will Cass couldn’t get for us and picking up on the news.”

“Ah, thought you might have been after one of Henry Hooker’s turkeys.”  Monty gave a chuckle.  “Folks said he was mad driving turkeys over the Sierras but he sure proved ‘em wrong.  Sold all five hundred birds within a few hours of hitting town.  Made himself a nice little profit, I shouldn’t wonder.”

“Turkeys?”  Adam tried to appear unconcerned.

“Yep, drove ‘em over from Placerville.  Turkeys is plentiful there.  He saw there was a market here, since we don’t see too many around these parts.  Apparently he got to the ridge, you know the one above Kings Canyon, and the whole lot took fright at something in the brush and took off into the sky like, with one awful noise.  Bet that was a sight to behold.”

“Yeah,… I bet it was.”  Adam said with a nod at Hoss.  “You buy some Monty?  Yeah got me a few, could let you have one if you like.  I know how Hoss likes his food.”  He grinned.  “Course they ain’t plucked or drawn yet, Hop Sing’d have to do that.”

“That’s right nice of you, Monty.”  Hoss drew some notes from his pocket.

“Five dollars is fine, Hoss.  Same as I paid Henry.  You can ride by my place on your way home and collect him.”

Adam took another five dollars from his pocket book, “Here take this too, Monty.  It would take too long to explain, but it’s worth every cent to see Pa’s face when we put this turkey in front of him.”  He laughed and shook his head at Hoss, “Little Joe’s too.  He never thought anyone would believe him.”

By the time Adam and Hoss arrived home, Ben and Joe were already doing evening chores.  It was obvious from the atmosphere in the barn that nothing had been resolved.

Adam rode over to the kitchen and disappeared inside, allowing Hoss to take Sport to the barn.  By the time he joined them a few minutes later he was composed and ready to do chores with a good story for their trip to Carson City.

“You see Pa, Hop Sing wanted some spices for tonight’s meal, and Hoss and I had finished the barn repairs, so we figured you wouldn’t mind if we rode over to Carson City for a beer.”  He explained.

Ben glared at his oldest son, “It seems no one minds me these days.  There is always work to do.  One job might be finished but there are plenty more.”

“Sorry, Pa.  We’ll get right at ‘em tomorrow, won’t we Adam?”  Hoss tried to mollify his father while fighting hard not to grin.

Joe grumbled under his breath.  It was alright for brothers they could do what they wanted.  He had only ridden over to Carson City same as they had, but Pa had yelled and sent him to his room, and was now watching him like a hawk.  It didn’t matter that he had told the truth if Pa wouldn’t believe him.  He was hurt and disappointed that Pa didn’t trust him.  But then there had been times when maybe Pa had been right not to, but this wasn’t one of them.

Hop Sing had already prepared supper and it was no less frosty than the previous evenings.  Adam and Hoss had discussed the problem and decided that a total surprise was better than a simple explanation.  The next evening Adam and Hoss came down to supper in their best clothes.  Hoss even wore a tie, something he usually fought against.

“What on earth is this all about?”  Ben asked.  “We expecting company that I know nothing about?”

Adam’s smile was enigmatic, “Kinda, Pa.  But it’s not something you need worry about.”

Joe gaped then shrugged.  There was no accounting for older brothers.

Once all four were seated at the table, Hop Sing brought in a large silver salver with a cover and placed it on the table in front of Ben.  The vegetables were already on the table and for once Hop Sing didn’t trot back to his kitchen.  He remained standing to one side of Ben where he could get a good view.

Ben lifted the cover and stared then looked at Hop Sing and back to the salver.  “What’s this?”

“Turkey, Pa… real good roast turkey.”  Hoss sniffed, appreciatively.

“I can see that but where did it come from?  “We haven’t seen turkeys around here for more than a year.”

Adam’s expression was infuriatingly smug, “Oh, it’s one of those turkeys that Joe didn’t see fly off the ridge.  One of those, that didn’t get driven from Placerville with dogs.”  He nodded, sagely.

Hoss could see his father wasn’t impressed with Adam’s sarcasm and intervened.  “We bought it in Carson City, off’n Monty Halstead.  He got it off a fella called Hooker.  Drove five hundred of ‘em over from Placerville and made a lotta money, so Monty said.”

Ben’s expression was one of total astonishment.  “You mean there really was a flock of turkeys?”

At this Joe came to life.  He was exonerated.  “Sure there was, Pa.  Like I toldya.”  Animated as, he hadn’t been in days.

“Yep, looks like, for once Little Joe wasn’t exaggerating, Pa.  A real flock of turkeys.”  Adam grinned.

“I owe you an apology, son.  In future if you say you’ve seen a flock of turkeys, I’ll believe you really have.”  Ben smiled at his youngest son.

The two older brothers smiled and Adam winked at Hoss.  It was good to have things back to normal in the Cartwright household; at least for a day or two.

The basis of this story is true.  In the late 1860’s a man named Henry Hooker bought 500 turkeys for around $1.50 each in Placerville, where turkeys were plentiful.  He drove them over the Sierra’s toward Carson City. On his journey the turkeys took flight at a ridge and there was what you might call a ‘turkey stampede’.  Hooker thought he had lost his investment but once they landed the turkeys called to one another and re-formed into a flock and he was able to continue his journey to Carson City where he sold them at $5 each.              Nevada Towns and Tales – Vol. 1 – North – edited by Stanley W. Paher, Nevada Publications 1981