Summary:  Ben and Adam visit a small fair on their way West.   Prequel 1835

WC: 670     Rating: K

Thank you so much, Sklamb, for your help and your suggestions, especially for the title.

 

All The Fun Of The Fair

“How poor and small this fair is,” Ben Cartwright thought on an early afternoon as he strode down the dusty grass between the two rows of stalls. What glorious fairs he had seen in Boston! All the streets were brightly decorated, music sounded everywhere, and the aroma of frying funnel cakes overwhelmed the city’s usual smells of seaweed and salt water. Well, to buy a new coffee pot this one would be sufficient; and anyhow he hadn’t money to waste.

“Pa, look!”

Ben’s pace was slowed down by the tug of a little hand belonging to a little boy whose legs seemed to have planted themselves stiffly in the ground.

“What’ that?” The not-quite-five-year-old pointed to a framework supporting a row of small boats.

“That’s a boat swing. Perhaps we can see how it works later when somebody rides it.”

The boy nodded and stared up at the mechanism with awe. “They fly high, don’t they? Perhaps even higher than the swing in Miss Mildred’s garden.”

It took Ben a moment to remember the young woman who had taken care of Adam for a short time almost a year ago. “Much higher. But let us go on. Now we need to buy our new coffee pot.”

They had just finished their business at the hardware stall when a garishly dressed man carrying a bucket stepped in front of them. With a sudden movement he threw the contents of the bucket towards Adam. The boy jumped back and had to laugh in relief when instead of water, only a splash of colorful paper scraps came out. “Perhaps today is your lucky day, boy,” the strange man murmured. “Buy a lottery ticket!”

Ben forced a grin onto his face but pulled Adam impatiently with him when the boy repeatedly looked back at the colorful man.

The crowd before them became denser and then came to a standstill. When the kettledrums, trombones, and trumpets started to play Ben knew why: they had all waited to hear the local band.

Its repertory wasn’t very large and so father and son were back on their way soon.

“How did you like the music, son?”

“Fine. Only the trumpet with that staff what the fat man played hurted my ears.”

“You are right, Adam. One of the trombonists played very badly.” Ben turned to nod at his son and almost walked into a little man holding out a basket.

“5 cents a ticket!”

Ben tried to go past the man and get away but was slowed down again by a little hand.

“Pa, my lucky day”, the boy whispered.

“Oh, Adam, that’s only a trick.”

“I have my own money, Pa. Can I use my silver coin? It is five cents, isn’t it?” The boy fumbled a sparkling half-dime out of his trousers.

Ben frowned but then – on a sudden impulse – allowed the boy to buy a ticket. He watched as his son fished a selection from the depths of the basket.

Breathlessly Adam held the scrap of paper out to his father. “What’s written on it, Pa?” he asked eagerly.

Ben unfolded the paper, and read in large letters: “Sorry, you lose!” The father glanced down at the child who was looking up to him with wide-eyed anticipation. Fair – fair in Boston – careless time – an enticing strange world – a feast for all the senses – children’s happiness – “It says,” Ben cleared his throat, “‘You’re a winner!’ Wait here for a moment and I’ll go and get your prize.”

Quickly Ben crossed the way, glanced over the display, and bought a little item from the ticket seller.

“Here, you lucky fellow, you won a harmonica! But please learn to play better than that fat trombonist.” Ben winked at his son. “You know what? Since it’s your lucky day the two of us should have a ride on the swing boats. An old sea dog and a lucky fellow will most surely fly higher than all the others!” Ben looked expectantly at his son, and then he smelled it: the scent of frying funnel cakes.

 

Tags:  Adam Cartwright, Ben Cartwright