{"id":12543,"date":"2016-01-28T19:17:55","date_gmt":"2016-01-29T00:17:55","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=12543"},"modified":"2025-08-01T13:29:13","modified_gmt":"2025-08-01T17:29:13","slug":"momma-liked-the-roses-by-bluewindfarm","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=12543","title":{"rendered":"Momma Liked The Roses (by BluewindFarm)"},"content":{"rendered":"

Summary<\/strong>: Readers can thank Elvis Presley for inspiring this story.<\/span><\/p>\n

When the pain and the hurt are still fresh, can a memory shine bright?<\/span><\/p>\n

Rating:\u00a0 K\u00a0 (1,125 words)<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Mama Liked The Roses<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

A bright blue sky greeted Ben Cartwright as he exited his home. Stepping to the wooden front porch, coffee cup in hand, he welcomed the promise of this new day. For too long, depressing gray skies had hung over the Ponderosa.\u00a0 Inhaling the fragrance of\u00a0the budding roses, memories swept over him.<\/span><\/p>\n

*****<\/span><\/p>\n

Returning from a long day working the cattle herds on their ever-expanding land, a dust-coated and sweaty Ben handed Buck to the ranch hand who greeted him in front of the barn.<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cLong day Mr. Cartwright?\u201d asked the grizzled old man, posture stooped and walking with bowed legs.<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou can say that.\u201d Ben sighed; stretching his back before striding across the hard-packed ground to the front porch entrance of his home.<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

The sun had dropped behind the western mountain range, yet the sky still held a faint hint of blue \/gray that occurred before turning black. <\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

Closing the heavy door behind him, he stopped at the sideboard long enough to divest himself of his gun belt and hat before acknowledging the \u2018shhhh\u2019 coming from farther inside the great room. Eyebrows arched at seeing Hop Sing sitting in the chair his sons proclaimed as Ben\u2019s; a small boy with curly brown hair asleep in his lap.<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cLong day fo numba twee son,\u201d Hop Sing spoke in stilted English, arms wrapped around his charge.<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

Ben reached forward to take his youngest son. \u201cI\u2019m sorry if he caused any trouble.\u201d<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

Shaking his head, \u201cLit\u2019le Joe no cause twouble. No, fatha have other duty.\u201d<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

Looking around, Ben queried, \u201cWhere\u2019s Hoss? Is he upstairs?\u201d<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHop Sing think he go see Missy Cartwright. Boys have difficult day.\u201d<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWill you keep my supper warm?\u201d <\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

Hop Sing nodded.<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

With his own heart still grieving, he understood. Placing a hand on the mop of his son\u2019s head, \u201cI love you Little Joe.\u201d<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

*****<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

From where he sat on his eldest son’s horse, Beauty, Ben barely discerned Hoss\u2019 form in the dark of the landing at Marie\u2019s grave site. Closer, he saw his son wipe a sleeve across his face.<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHoss?\u201d Ben dismounted, dropping the reins.<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cPa?\u201d Hoss stood. Looking to his feet, \u201cI\u2019m sorry if\u2019n I worried ya. I know I shoulda been home.\u201d<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

Ben watched his eleven-year old son walk across the needle-strewn land, \u201cHop Sing told me where you were.\u201d Using his right hand he lifted the boy\u2019s chin. \u201cI take it you had a bad day?\u201d<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou can say that.\u201d Teary eyes looked up.<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWould you like to talk about your day?\u201d Ben lowered his hand.<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo sir, I think we best get back home, \u2018fore Little Joe gets to cryin\u2019 again.\u201d<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

A hand to the shoulder prevented his son from walking past. \u201cI think Joseph will be fine with Hop Sing. He was sleeping when I left.\u201d<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWe don\u2019t have to talk, Pa.\u201d<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

Ben led his son back to Marie\u2019s grave and sat down. \u201cHoss, please son. Have a seat.\u201d<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

Making himself as comfortable as possible, Hoss sat and fiddled with the pine needles. \u201cI don\u2019t wanna make ya sad Pa.\u201d<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAre you afraid I\u2019ll go away again?\u201d<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

Hoss shrugged his shoulders, not daring to look up.<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cTalk to me son.\u201d Ben reached over, taking Hoss\u2019 hand in his. \u201cI promise you, I won\u2019t leave you. Not like I did. I might have to leave for business on occasion, but you\u2019ll know where I am at all times.\u201d<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

Ben waited. He regretted how his misery had driven him away, leaving all three of his sons to manage their grief by themselves. Trust was re-established before Adam had left for college; at his age he could accept the why of Ben\u2019s absence. Only time would tell if love would overcome the hurt he\u2019d inflicted on his youngest boys during the two months he\u2019d been gone.<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not the same is it?\u201d Hoss looked to the tombstone; unable to prevent the tears, his breath hitched.
\n<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo, it\u2019s not.\u201d Using a thumb, he wiped away the tears streaming down Hoss\u2019 face. \u201cShe\u2019ll always be with us. Your mother will always be in our hearts.\u201d<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s what Adam said.\u201d<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAnd you\u2019re missing Adam too, aren\u2019t you?\u201d Ben pulled Hoss to lean into him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYes sir. Sometimes,\u201d Hoss raggedly inhaled, fighting his mourning. \u201cSometimes it feels like he\u2019s died too, only there ain\u2019t no grave to visit.\u201d<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI guess I can see how it would feel that way. But you know, Adam left to fulfill his dream of continuing his education. He\u2019ll be back.\u201d<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI know that, but he\u2019s always been here for me.\u201d Hoss sniffled, wiping his sleeve under his nose to stop it from running. \u201cI just wish I could feel like I did before Mama died.\u201d<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

Father and son sat quietly, allowing the sound of the lapping water to sooth their sorrow.<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSometimes I wish the same thing,\u201d Ben whispered.<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHuh? You do?\u201d<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSon, it\u2019s easy to think of all we\u2019ve lost; and that\u2019s why I went away. But I came back. Do you know why?\u201d Standing up, Ben motioned for Hoss to accompany him to the water\u2019s edge, the moon reflected bright across the water. The image shimmered as the small waves danced over the shoreline.<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBecause ya missed us?\u201d<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYes, I did miss the three of you. But I also realized that my dream was still alive. My sons were at home waiting for me. You, Adam, and Little Joe help lessen the grief. You\u2019re the bright spots in my life.\u201d<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWell\u2026\u201d Hoss picked up a flat pebble and threw it across the water, skipping three times before disappearing below the surface. \u201cI don\u2019t wanna forget Mama, and…\u201d Hoss smiled as a memory brightened his face, \u201cMama liked the roses.\u201d<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat she did. She always loved fresh-cut roses.\u201d Mirroring his middle son, Ben reached down and picked up a pebble. Hoss giggled when the stone skipped five times before sinking. <\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou think we could plant a rosebush\u00a0so we can remember her?\u201d Hoss asked, taking Ben\u2019s hand before he headed to where Beauty patiently waited next to his horse Cocoa.<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI think that would be a wonderful way to remember your Mama.\u201d Ben climbed into the saddle first, reaching down he pulled Hoss to sit behind him.<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u201cPa, can I go to the tradin\u2019 post with ya some time and order a rosebush\u00a0for Mama?\u201d<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

“I think we can. Why don\u2019t we take Joe and make it a family affair; I think Hop Sing would enjoy having help loading the supplies.\u201d<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

Taking the pony’s reins in hand and turning for home, Ben felt his son waving and heard, \u201cBye Mama, we\u2019re gonna plant roses as beautiful as you.\u201d<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

*****<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYes Hoss, you were right. The roses are a beautiful reflection of Marie.\u00a0 But now they\u2019ll be a reminder of your beautiful soul.\u201d Rocking in the chair, tears streamed down Ben\u2019s face. \u201cOh how I miss you both.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~The End.<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Please forgive me for not including the Series in the Summary, I didn’t want to give away the ending of the story.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Author’s Note: \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And I’ve Got Mine…<\/em>was the first story written, followed by Momma Liked the Roses<\/em>, and\u00a0What We Didn’t Choose, <\/em>and lastly, Always <\/em>in what has become known as my Remembering Hoss Series<\/strong>.\u00a0 The Series is listed in chronological order below.<\/span><\/p>\n

Remembering Hoss Series:<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

Always<\/a><\/span>
\nAnd I’ve Got Mine… (Until the Pain’s a Cloud of Dust)<\/a><\/span>
\nWhat We Didn’t Choose<\/a><\/span>
\nMomma Liked the Roses<\/a><\/span><\/p>\n

End Note:\u00a0 <\/em><\/strong>Mama Liked the Roses<\/em>, recorded by Elvis Presley, composed by John L. Christopher.<\/span><\/p>\n

Author’s note<\/strong>:\u00a0 I don’t remember if it was canon or fan fiction that claimed Marie planted the rose trellis on the front porch.\u00a0 If it was canon, please forgive this variation on how the roses came to be,\u00a0 this is how my muse\u00a0inspired me after hearing Elvis singing.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Tags: Ben Cartwright, Grief, Hoss Cartwright, HPM<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Summary: When the pain and the hurt are still fresh, can a memory shine bright?<\/p>\n

Rating:\u00a0 K\u00a0 (1,125 words)<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":24,"featured_media":8609,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"template-full-width-post.php","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_hide_featured_image":false,"_jetpack_featured_image_duplicate_dismissed":0,"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[23,41,61],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-12543","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-drama","category-hurtcomfort","category-missing-scene","wpcat-23-id","wpcat-41-id","wpcat-61-id"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/05\/Rose-01.jpg?fit=400%2C300&ssl=1","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12543","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/24"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=12543"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12543\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/8609"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=12543"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=12543"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=12543"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}