{"id":18334,"date":"2018-09-18T11:51:50","date_gmt":"2018-09-18T15:51:50","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=18334"},"modified":"2025-09-25T15:40:11","modified_gmt":"2025-09-25T19:40:11","slug":"the-squirrels-stash-3","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=18334","title":{"rendered":"The Squirrel’s Stash #3 (by Questfan)"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Summary:<\/strong> A few more Pinecone Challenges for my pet squirrel to gnaw on.\u00a0 He’s getting a little chubby with all he’s been eating! Each chapter has a lyric prompt and had to be no more than 500 words.<\/p>\n

Word Count: 8885\u00a0 Rating: T<\/p>\n

Disclaimer: All publicly recognisable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.\u00a0 The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise.\u00a0 No copyright infringement is intended.<\/p>\n

The Squirrel’s Stash #3<\/strong><\/p>\n

Spoke a lot of words, I don’t know if I spoke the truth.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Trouble<\/em> by Cage the Elephant<\/p>\n

Paul poured three glasses of whiskey and handed two across to his guests before picking up the third and settling down into his chair. It was a well-worn leather wingback and one side of it bore the marks of sitting a tad too close to the fire for too long. He often found himself pulled up close to the fire with whatever medical journals he could get from colleagues back East and many a time he had fallen asleep in the chair and found the precious papers scattered on the floor the next morning. He worried a little that one day he might set the place on fire, but so far his curiosity had outweighed his caution.<\/p>\n

“A bit like Icarus,”<\/em> he mused to himself. The myth was one he had first read as a child of nine and the imagery stuck with him. There were certainly times when he felt just like the poor lad who flew too close to the sun and fell to his death. The day they had just endured felt like one of those times.<\/p>\n

He looked up at his two friends and silently raised his glass towards them. As both of them slowly echoed the gesture, each of them nodded in silent understanding of the object of the toast. He felt the heat of the brandy as it slid down his throat and didn’t miss the tragic irony that it came from a bottle that Ben had gifted him for his birthday.<\/p>\n

“Paul \u2026” Roy’s words stuck in his throat. He took another swallow of his brandy and tried again. “Paul, is Ben gonna be all right?”<\/p>\n

The doctor rubbed his hand across his face and finally settled his hand across his jaw. He honestly didn’t know the answer to that question. He hated to think that the truth might be that his friend had possibly reached his breaking point. Finally he dropped his hand to his lap and shook his head.<\/p>\n

“I don’t know. Maybe \u2026 maybe if Adam was still here \u2026 but Joe’s barely functioning himself and Jamie \u2026 well he’s still just a boy.”<\/p>\n

Reverend Davis Carter had only been in Virginia City for little more than a year, but he had found a kindred spirit in the three-times widowed rancher. His own wife had died two years earlier, leaving him with twins to raise on his own.<\/p>\n

It was Ben who had sat and listened as he poured out his deepest unspoken grief and Ben who had assured him that he could keep on living life to the full. The man had introduced his son and daughter to riding ponies and he had almost been forgiven for dragging them to Nevada.<\/p>\n

“Reverend, you spoke with Ben after the funeral.” Paul’s question was unspoken, but it was there.<\/p>\n

“Well \u2026 I spoke a lot of words \u2026 I don’t know if I spoke the truth.” He looked up and frowned. “How do you bury your own child and survive?<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

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Don’t cross him, don’t boss him. He’s wild in his sorrow. He’s ridin’ an’ hidin’ his pain. <\/strong><\/p>\n

The Red Headed Stranger,<\/em> by Willie Nelson.<\/p>\n

It had happened so many times lately. A trail of seemingly pointless fistfights followed wherever his son set foot these past few weeks and Ben worried that it would soon progress to something more serious.<\/p>\n

Or deadly.<\/p>\n

It wasn’t like the random saddle tramps or miners in town owed his son any favours and would pull any punches just because his son was \u2026 whatever he was!<\/p>\n

Ben wanted to say the word grieving, but he held back. He didn’t want to give rein to that thought just yet.<\/p>\n

The ongoing rift between Little Joe and his best friend since they attended their first day of school together was tearing his son apart. It had taken days to figure out just what was driving his son’s behaviour when he was up one minute and down in a foul mood the next. Unfortunately, he’d been too late to stop Joe’s self-destructive behaviour before he’d damaged that bond with Mitch.<\/p>\n

Ben watched as the dust slowly settled where Joe had just been. Hoss stood with his hands anchored on his hips and blood dribbling down his lip. It wouldn’t have taken much for him to pummel his smaller brother into the ground and once again Ben was grateful for his middle son’s calm temperament. It wasn’t as if Joseph wouldn’t have deserved it.<\/p>\n

“What are we gonna do about him, Pa?”<\/p>\n

Hoss took a swallow from the canteen his father handed him and spat the bloodied water onto the ground. He swiped his hand across his lip and frowned at the blood that came away. Joe had one mean left hook! No, at the moment, Joe was just plain mean.<\/p>\n

“Don’t cross him.” Ben tried to smile at Hoss. It didn’t take much these days. “Don’t boss him.”<\/p>\n

“Pa, I don’t boss him, but he’s just \u2026”<\/p>\n

“He’s wild in his sorrow.” Ben turned once again to look where his son had so recklessly ridden off to at a full gallop.<\/p>\n

“He’s ridin’ an’ hidin’ his pain.”<\/p>\n

Ben nodded as Hoss began to gather up the tools and place them in the back of the buckboard.<\/p>\n

“This can’t go on.”<\/p>\n

It was well after nine o’clock before Ben got to see his youngest son again. This time, as Joe nudged the front door open, Ben stared in horror at the state Joe was in. His shirt was torn into strips and his face looked like it had gone three rounds with a bull. He stumbled to his feet as Joe hung his hat on the rack and began to unbuckle his gunbelt.<\/p>\n

“Joseph! Son \u2026 this has to stop!”<\/p>\n

Joe held up a hand and nodded. “It’s alright, Pa. I’m done fightin’.”<\/p>\n

Ben stared as Joe crossed the room and held out a hand towards Hoss. “I’m sorry, Hoss. I had no business hittin’ you.”<\/p>\n

Hoss reached for his brother’s outstretched hand and gripped onto it. “What do ya mean, you’re done fightin’?”<\/p>\n

“I saw Mitch today. We \u2026 we sorted things.”<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

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This was a two-parter challenge for Valentine’s Day.<\/p>\n

Some love is just a lie of the soul, a constant battle for the ultimate state of control. <\/strong><\/p>\n

Some love is just a lie of the heart, the cold remains of what began with a passionate start. <\/strong><\/p>\n

A Matter of Trust,<\/em> by Billy Joel.<\/p>\n

Ben leaned back against the wall as he slowly ran the fingertips of one hand over the lock. He stared at the elegantly carved wooden chest and felt his heart rate lift at the sight of it. It had been so many years since he had even opened the chest, let alone really savoured its contents. For so long it had been covered over with a dark oilcloth and hidden away, as if he could somehow bury the pain by pushing it out of sight. Marie’s beautiful things were both a treasure and a blight on his already bruised spirit. He couldn’t bear to look on her tiny cream gloves or her lace fan without seeing her beautiful face in his mind’s eye. The remembered sound of her laughter as she teased him with the fan was both a painful memory and a cruel reminder of all that had been stolen from him. He couldn’t be sure how long it had taken him before he had finally ventured into the attic and allowed himself to open the chest for the first time. That afternoon was so many years behind him and yet it burned so brightly in his memory that it could well have been last week.<\/p>\n

Slowly, reverently, he opened the lock and lifted the lid. He knew exactly what was in there and he found himself lifting things aside to reach his target. Finally his fingers touched the cool leather of his wife’s journal and he lifted it out into the light. The lantern created warm shadows against the wall and he turned the wick a little higher as he settled back once more. His wife, for all her outward confidence, had been a very private person. He knew she kept journals, but never once had she shared a word with him while she was alive. It had taken days of staring at this one on his bedside table to convince himself it wasn’t a betrayal to read it.<\/p>\n

In actual fact, it was a matter of trust.<\/p>\n

Marie had been big on trust. It wasn’t hard to see why when she had trusted and that trust had been abused in the worst way. The fact she had chosen to trust him with her heart and her future was something he had not fully grasped at the time. But after reading her journals, well his heart had overflowed once again with the enormity and rarity of her gift.<\/p>\n

Ben flipped open to a well-worn page and smiled at his wife’s delicate handwriting. The fact the page showed the evidence of tears was not lost on him.<\/p>\n

Some love is just a lie of the soul, a constant battle for the ultimate state of control. I could not bear to find myself caught by such “love” ever again. How do I know this man will love me for me? I see it in his eyes, but is that just my foolish heart seeing what I wish to see?<\/em><\/p>\n

Ben looked again at his wife’s heartfelt words. She had been so badly abused and yet something in her still yearned to be loved. And to love. He could not imagine a world without his beloved Marie or the son she had gifted him with. He turned back to the journal once more and frowned at the next line.<\/p>\n

Some love is just a lie of the heart, the cold remains of what began with a passionate start.<\/em><\/p>\n

He disagreed.<\/p>\n

True love was never a lie. Passion was not the same thing as love. His wife was certainly full of passion! A spitfire, some would have called her. He laughed softly as he recalled the night she had thrown a book at his head. It had missed as she was off balance due to her advanced stage of pregnancy, but the anger behind it was not lost on him. Life had certainly never been dull with Marie around.<\/p>\n

He was unaware as somebody slowly approached until he saw boots right in front of him.<\/p>\n

“Pa \u2026 are you alright?”<\/p>\n

Ben looked up to see Marie’s boy eyeing him while trying not to intrude.<\/p>\n

“I’m fine, Joseph.”<\/p>\n

Ben smiled to himself as he heard his son’s standard line come out of his own mouth.<\/p>\n

“Why don’t you sit down?”<\/p>\n

Joe looked uncomfortable as he glanced at his mother’s trunk. It wasn’t like he hadn’t spent his own time alone in the attic, going through the contents and trying to attach memories to each item. He slowly settled himself next to his father and leaned back into the solid wood of the wall.<\/p>\n

“I was just \u2026” Ben paused as he tried to find the words. What exactly was he doing?<\/p>\n

“Enjoying being with Mama?”<\/p>\n

Ben looked across at his son and watched as the shadows from the lantern danced across his face. The eyes that watched him so intently were so like his mother’s. Marie didn’t miss a thing and neither did her boy, apparently.<\/p>\n

He couldn’t bring himself to answer so he simply nodded.<\/p>\n

“She’d want you to be happy. You know that, don’t you?”<\/p>\n

When Ben still didn’t answer, Joe prodded a little further.<\/p>\n

“Marrying again isn’t a betrayal of her. She loved you and she’d want you to be happy.”<\/p>\n

“You’ve read these, haven’t you?” Ben held up the journal in his hand as Joe slowly nodded. His son was well past the age where he needed to ask permission, but it still felt a little strange that his son had read of his mother’s doubts about his father’s ability to love her back.<\/p>\n

“She loved you.”<\/p>\n

It was such a simple statement that covered so very much territory.<\/p>\n

“And you? How do you feel about your old father taking another wife?”<\/p>\n

Joe reached a hand towards his father’s forearm and wrapped his fingers around it.<\/p>\n

“Well \u2026 she won’t be Mama \u2026 but I’d say Sarah makes you happy \u2026 and that’s good enough for me.”<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

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Trouble been doggin’ my soul since the day I was born.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Trouble<\/em> by S. Ray LaMontagne<\/p>\n

Hoss stared at the scruffy young face before him. The barest hint of chin whiskers reminded him of how desperate Little Joe was to see something sprout on his own bare chin. The kid couldn’t be no more than seventeen yet his eyes looked as if he’d seen a hundred years pass him by.<\/p>\n

The gun pointed straight at his gut wobbled a little and Hoss tried not to move. The kid looked like he might just pull that trigger at any moment and he didn’t fancy having a hole through his new shirt. Hop Sing would surely pitch a fit at how much blood he’d have to get out and \u2026 Hoss suddenly pulled himself up short. He figured his thoughts were taking such a ridiculous turn as he compared the scared kid before him to his own little brother. Only last week, Joe had torn a sleeve off one of his shirts trying to prove he was ready to bust a cantankerous bronc and Hop Sing had been very indignant about having to sew it back on. Again!<\/p>\n

Finally, he decided to try a different tack. The kid’s feet shuffled back as Hoss cleared his throat. He wasn’t half as sure as he’d sounded only a few minutes earlier when he’d threatened to blow Hoss’ head off.<\/p>\n

“Now, it seems to me you don’t really wanna take a shot at me. You just need somethin’ that you think I’ve got.”<\/p>\n

The kid licked at dry lips and tried to hold his hand steady. He’d watched as the giant man had walked out of the bank and stuffed something into his saddlebags and he’d figured he had an easy target when the man left town alone. Of course, Sophie had tried to argue with him, but what did a dumb girl know? That was why he’d stashed her behind the saloon and raced away, hoping to cut off one of the Cartwrights before he reached home.<\/p>\n

“You got money in that saddlebag.” The kid waved his gun towards the bag and Hoss reached back behind him and pointed at it.<\/p>\n

“Money? Nahh, I just got me some paperwork in here for my pa and a few other bits of things that ain’t much use to you. Here \u2026 let me show ya.”<\/p>\n

“Hold it!”<\/p>\n

Hoss paused as the gun waved closer to his face.<\/p>\n

“You do know that shootin’ a man’ll get you strung up? You sure you want that kinda trouble?”<\/p>\n

The kid snorted at him. “Trouble? Trouble been doggin’ my soul since the day I was born!”<\/p>\n

“Hmmm. Well it looks ta me like a good feed and maybe a job might help fix some o’ that trouble.”<\/p>\n

The kid shook his head in disbelief. “I’m trying to rob you and you talk about a job!”<\/p>\n

Hoss shrugged and slowly nodded. “You look a mite young to be robbin’ folks for a livin’. And you remind me of my kid brother. Now Trouble’s his middle name!”<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

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Sometimes you tell the day by the bottle you drink, and times when you’re alone all you do is think.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Wanted Dead or Alive<\/em> by Bon Jovi<\/p>\n

Joe leaned against the doorframe and watched as his friend downed another whiskey. The bottle stood off to the side, but he could see that it was well past the half way mark. It wasn’t doing anybody any good to drink as hard as he was, but Joe knew only too well that he was fighting an unwinnable battle. Nothing would ease the man’s broken heart and nobody could bring back the young wife he adored.<\/p>\n

As each dark day dragged by and there was no sign of Jesse’s misery lifting, Joe had trailed along behind him and tried to keep the damage to a minimum. From sunup to sundown, Jesse worked. From sundown until the early hours of the morning, he drank. It made mornings a misery for another reason altogether, but Joe knew that it was still better than facing the real misery of an empty bed and an empty crib.<\/p>\n

A world without his beautiful Christy was something Jesse simply couldn’t face yet. If it hadn’t been for his father, Joe truly feared what his friend could have done. Harry Dawes had been injured in the same accident that had taken the life of his daughter-in-law and unborn grandchild. The horses had spooked and the wagon had tipped over, trapping Harry underneath it while Christy had been thrown clear. Death had been instantaneous according to Doc Martin. She would have had no idea what hit her.<\/p>\n

Joe made his way across to the bar and after snagging a beer, he headed for the chair across from his friend. He didn’t expect a welcome, but Jesse barely reacted as he slid into his seat.<\/p>\n

There were no words that hadn’t been said already. What was it the preacher said? Think on the good times and you’ll see your family again in Heaven. Joe sipped at his beer as he recalled how many times he’d been told that when he had cried for his mother over the years. He didn’t have many memories of her and given that everybody said patience wasn’t his strong suit, why did everybody think that made anything better? Joe took another sip as he watched Jesse over the rim of his glass. People sure did say some dumb things to folks who were grieving. Jesse looked like a shadow of himself and it was no wonder. He and Christy had been together for over two years and Joe had teased his friend about how smitten he was by the petite redhead. As he took another sip of his beer, he wondered for a moment how he would deal with losing a beloved wife and unborn child.<\/p>\n

Jesse looked up as if noticing Joe for the first time. He nodded towards the bottle of whiskey.<\/p>\n

“Sometimes you tell the day by the bottle that you drink.” He frowned as he poured another and downed it in one gulp. “And times when you’re alone \u2026 all you do is think. I don’t wanna be alone, Joe!”<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

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I’ve got a peaceful, easy feeling, and I know you won’t let me down.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Peaceful, Easy Feeling <\/em>by The Eagles<\/p>\n

Joe felt his hands slipping on the rocks as he tried desperately to shove them out of the way. It seemed that for every rock he hefted aside, another two would be there when he turned back around. It was a Herculean job and he simply wasn’t built for it. Now, Hoss \u2013 Hoss could move a mountain. If only he wasn’t buried under the mountain!<\/p>\n

The day had started out so promising as they made their way into town. Hoss drove the empty wagon and Joe fairly bounced with excitement on the seat beside him. It was the first day the twelve-year-old had been allowed off the Ponderosa in nearly three weeks following some infraction he had already forgotten about. His father hadn’t forgotten and had given a stern warning to the boy as he climbed in beside Hoss. Joe had looked suitably contrite as he nodded his head and agreed with the instructions.<\/p>\n

It was too pretty a day for his mood to stay dark for long and he soon began talking up a storm about all the things he and Mitch planned for the Summer. Hoss nodded and laughed and poked his brother in the ribs as a reminder that Pa was still watching, even when they were out of his sight. Joe’s face fell for a moment before he brightened again and went off on another wild tangent. Hoss enjoyed listening to his brother’s enthusiasm and was content to hear anything Joe had to say. His brother sure did have some wild thoughts!<\/p>\n

The trip into town had been without incident, much to Hoss’ relief and they soon had the wagon loaded and heading home. It would have finished without incident too except for that cat that came out of nowhere. Neither of them spotted it as they were too busy trying to figure out Joe’s newest plan. The horses may not have seen it, but they smelled it and panicked. Hoss found the reins wrapped taut around his fingers as the panic-stricken horses bolted. The puma sprang from the rocks and latched onto the closest horse.<\/p>\n

It happened so fast that Joe had no idea how they were suddenly turned upside down and the world had landed on their heads. The horses’ hitching had broken away and there was no sign of the horses anywhere when Joe finally opened his eyes. The wagon had careened into the rocks and pulled a pile of rubble down on top of it. All he could see of Hoss was a boot and the tips of his fingers from under the edge of the upturned wagon.<\/p>\n

He began to frantically tug at the pile of rocks and fling them aside, all the while calling his brother’s name.<\/p>\n

“Joe?”<\/p>\n

It sounded all wrong.<\/p>\n

“Joe \u2026 you gotta go \u2026 for help.”<\/p>\n

“I ain’t leavin’ you! You’re hurt!”<\/p>\n

“Joe \u2026 I’ve got a peaceful \u2026. easy feeling. You’ve gotta go \u2026 and I know you won’t let me down \u2026 little brother.”<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

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Here’s to the ones who dream foolish as they may seem.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Fools Who Dream<\/em> by Justin Hurwitz, Benj Pasek, Justin Noble Paul<\/p>\n

Ben heard the creak of the floorboard and smiled to himself. It didn’t matter how many times he had re-nailed it or waxed it or even tried pine sap between them, that one board would not be tamed when they built the house. He did not have enough hewn timber to waste a perfectly good piece replacing it. It had annoyed Adam, no end. His perfectionist son was irked that a simple thing such as a floorboard could get the better of him and had even tried to convince him to pull it up and replace it several times over the years. His clever, imaginative son who had helped design and then build the place they all called home.<\/p>\n

Home.<\/p>\n

It was such a small word that covered so very much.<\/p>\n

As Ben heard the floorboard creak a second time, he pushed himself up in the bed and reached down for his slippers. He didn’t need to turn up the wick to reach for his robe where it was draped across the back of a chair.<\/p>\n

That untamed floorboard had served as a tool to teach his young son a life lesson. He had stood Adam out in the hallway the night before he left for college and pointed to it.<\/p>\n

“Son, no matter how well you plan and how hard you work, there are some things that are out of your control. This land is only ever partially tamed and parts of it are like that floorboard. They will only bend so far and no more. Adam, you are not in control of everything.”<\/p>\n

Ben nudged at his son’s elbow. “Besides, that board has served to alert me every time one of you three is out of bed and not where you should be!”<\/p>\n

Adam had grinned at him as his father had shared the secret. He thought he’d been discrete and yet he’d been betrayed by a floorboard!<\/p>\n

For the second time, Ben stood in the hallway and stared at his eldest son’s door, knowing that tonight would be the last time he slept there. He’d given Adam his blessing to go to college, knowing full well his son would return. This time, he had no such assurance.<\/p>\n

Adam. His clever, imaginative son who needed to stretch his wings. Who needed to reach for his own dreams. He’d seen it coming, but tried to deny it. So many years ago, he’d reached for his own dreams and been told he was a fool.<\/p>\n

Ben raised his hand to his forehead in a quiet salute to his son.<\/p>\n

“Here’s to the ones who dream \u2026 foolish as they may seem.”<\/p>\n

Muffled sounds floated up from the room below and Ben silently made his way to the stairs. His sons sat in a row along the fireplace, each with a glass of good brandy.<\/p>\n

Joe looked up and grinned at him. “Hey, Pa. You sneaking out?”<\/p>\n

“Yeah, Pa, you should fix that floorboard!” Hoss laughed.<\/p>\n

Adam just raised his glass.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

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Memories are nothing more than ghosts that we let in. Don’t be afraid of them.
\n<\/strong><\/p>\n

When We Were Us <\/em>by Bon Jovi.<\/p>\n

“How come you never told me?”<\/p>\n

“Told you what?” Candy took another long sip of the lukewarm beer and tried to swallow it. The liquid stuck in his throat as he tried to ignore Joe’s steady gaze.<\/p>\n

“I thought we were past this. That we were friends.” Joe tried to keep a neutral expression, but Candy didn’t miss the slight edge of disappointment in his voice.<\/p>\n

“We were.”<\/p>\n

At least he hoped that was still true. If he weren’t parked in the corner with a table hemming him in, he would have already dropped the glass on the table and left. Joe deserved answers, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t bear the thought that any respect Joe had for him would evaporate in an instant.<\/p>\n

“And what? We aren’t anymore?”<\/p>\n

Candy took another gulp of his beer and refused to make eye contact.<\/p>\n

“Candy \u2026” Joe rubbed at his jaw as he wondered how to shift things. Candy’s stubbornness was legendary, but then again, so was his! He snorted to himself as he lifted his glass for another drink. The beer was stale and warm, but it was helping to wash out the trail dust he’d been eating for three days now. Three long days he had spent tracking down his wayward friend after he’d just up and left.<\/p>\n

“Joe, you need to go home. Nothing for you to do here.”<\/p>\n

Except lose all respect for me.<\/em><\/p>\n

“That’s not how I see it.”<\/p>\n

Candy was beginning to lose the game. He pushed out from the table and stalked towards the saloon door. Joe was only a step or two behind him and Candy felt his fists clenching by his sides. He gripped one hand in the other as he shoved at the swing door with his shoulder. Joe held up an arm to deflect the door from swinging back on him as he watched Candy cross the dusty street.<\/p>\n

He stood on the dilapidated boardwalk and watched as his friend walked away from him. He’d allowed Candy to walk away once before and he’d be damned if he was going to let it happen again. Especially since he didn’t know why.<\/p>\n

By the time Joe caught up with him, Candy looked like he was going to throw up. He was hunched over with one hand steadying himself against the back wall of the mercantile.<\/p>\n

“Candy \u2026 what’s going on?” Joe stopped a few feet short of his friend, half expecting him to take a swing. By the time he finally looked up, his eyes betrayed him.<\/p>\n

“Memories.”<\/p>\n

Joe edged closer and waited.<\/p>\n

“You know, Sarge used to say that memories are nothing more than ghosts that we let in.” He groaned, as if in pain. “Don’t be afraid of them, he’d say.”<\/p>\n

Candy peeled himself off the wall and straightened up. The pain on his face was as clear as day.<\/p>\n

“Sarge dragged me up after my father died.”<\/p>\n

“Tell me what happened.”<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

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The world is full of zanies and fools who don’t believe in sensible rules.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Impossible <\/em>by Rogers and Hammerstein
\n<\/em><\/p>\n

He had to give it to the kid \u2013 he sure had spunk! He grinned at the mop of unruly curls seated in front of him as he steered his horse back down the road to Virginia City. It was a good thing the circus caravan travelled so slowly and they weren’t too far out of town before the kid had accidentally revealed himself.<\/p>\n

Morry barely held back a chuckle as he recalled that noise that had given away their young stowaway. If he hadn’t sneezed from the trail dust kicking up under the canvas they could have made it to Carson City before they found him. As it was, he would need the better part of two days to take the kid home and return. He just hoped the law gave him a chance to speak first and explain when he turned up with the youngest Cartwright. He’d seen already that his father had some clout in the area and had sent men to help with the hoisting of the big top when they arrived in town. He could imagine the man had a posse out looking for his kid and he didn’t want to be mistaken for some kind of kidnapper or worse.<\/p>\n

“So, kid \u2026 what are you gonna say to your pa when you see him?”<\/p>\n

He felt the boy’s body stiffen in the saddle and he chewed at his lip instead of commenting. The boy might well be due a tanning and he obviously knew it.<\/p>\n

“I’m \u2026 I’m gonna tell him \u2026. I \u2026”<\/p>\n

The boy’s shoulders slumped and his head dropped back down as if all defiance had seeped away. It wasn’t the same kid he’d hauled out from under the canvas in the back of his wagon only that morning.<\/p>\n

“He’s gonna kill me!”<\/p>\n

“Nah. I reckon your pa’s gonna be real relieved to see you. He loves ya and he woulda been real worried when you disappeared.”<\/p>\n

“You don’t know nothin’! Pa’s always mad at me lately. He says I keep breakin’ the rules and not listenin’ and lettin’ him down.”<\/p>\n

Morry could feel the kid’s despair without even seeing his face. “He said all that?”<\/p>\n

“Well, the first bit \u2026 but I know I just keep lettin’ him down, but I can’t help it!”<\/p>\n

“Why not?”<\/p>\n

Joe’s shoulders shrugged as he slumped forward again.<\/p>\n

“I try! I really do! But I ain’t as smart as Adam or as strong as Hoss and I sure can’t cook like Hop Sing. Hoss says I make the worst coffee ever!”<\/p>\n

“And?”<\/p>\n

“And I start off doin’ my chores or whatever I’m s’posed to be doin’ and then \u2026”<\/p>\n

Morry smiled at the memories that rolled through his thoughts. “And then you see a fishing spot where the trout are just jumping and \u2026.”<\/p>\n

“Exactly! Miss Jones says I daydream too much.”<\/p>\n

“Kid, the world is full of zanies and fools who don’t believe in sensible rules. One day you’ll find where you fit.”<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

\n

Even now I still remember and the feeling’s still the same<\/strong><\/p>\n

Even Now<\/em> by Barry Manilow<\/p>\n

Ben smiled as he watched his youngest son pacing the floor. He remembered only too well the sense of anticipation merged with a deep tinge of fear. Three times he had dealt with it and each time he had been equally as useless at releasing it. Pacing may have taken the edge off, but not by much. It had been four years since Joe had raced after him and told him that he was going to be a grandfather. The memory of the look on his son’s face still made him smile, only to quickly be swallowed up by a sob of pain. So soon after that day of elation had come the worst day of Joe’s life. Ben still occasionally awoke in a sweat as he dreamed of that awful day and its aftermath. For weeks he had feared he would lose his boy too as Joe seemed to have lost the will to live.<\/p>\n

But then slowly, softly, his son had come back to him. Not quite the same as he had been before, but close enough. Joe’s ready laugh and quick wit had been tempered by a desperate sadness that had stolen something from him that would never return.<\/p>\n

Then Maddison arrived in town.<\/p>\n

She turned up one day on the stagecoach and never left. Ben was never quite sure who had been the one to instigate the conversation, but one Spring day, Ben noticed his boy had a new air about him. Something that had withered and died had been brought to life again. Joe began to walk with purpose again and his sombre demeanour began to melt away. Something of his son’s spark had been restored. For that reason alone, Ben loved the girl. When the two had been married and some months later declared they would be parents, he had watched his boy like a hawk. Joe’s nature was protective of those he loved, but there was a new fierceness in the way he kept watch this time. He never voiced it to anybody, but Ben knew. His boy was watching and waiting in fear that it would all be snatched away again.<\/p>\n

Candy poured a glass of brandy and walked over to catch Joe in mid pace.<\/p>\n

“Drink this.” He thrust the glass towards Joe, who waved it away.<\/p>\n

“I don’t need that!”<\/p>\n

“I think you do. You’re wound as tight as a rattler.”<\/p>\n

Joe resumed his pacing and Candy kept pace alongside him.<\/p>\n

“You need something to bring you down a notch or you’re gonna drop that poor kid on its head when the doc hands it to you! Now drink this.”<\/p>\n

Ben shrugged at him and smiled. “Better do as he says.”<\/p>\n

Joe stopped and stared at his father. “Is this what it felt like with us?”<\/p>\n

“Even now I still remember and the feeling’s still the same. Complete helplessness!”<\/p>\n

Before Joe could answer, a lusty cry drifted down from above. They laughed as Joe bolted for the stairs.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

\n

Many are the hearts that are weary tonight.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Tenting Tonight on the Old Campground<\/em> by Walter Kittredge<\/p>\n

He didn’t believe in bad luck in the same way that Hop Sing did, but his cook’s anguished words still echoed in his ears. The little man had exhausted himself helping to drag bodies up the muddied embankment and laying them out in rows with a nod of respect before turning for the next one. There was no guarantee that the people were even local as the floodwaters had hit the town without warning.<\/p>\n

Ben rubbed at the deep ache in his shoulder as he sipped at the hot mug of coffee someone had shoved into his hands. He was beyond exhausted and the coffee was barely making a dent, but nothing would remove the ache that had settled in his chest. He heard footsteps behind him and he knew without turning that it was Hoss. Nobody walked quite the same way as his middle son.<\/p>\n

“Sheriff’s identified the last one, Pa.”<\/p>\n

Ben reached for another mug to pour his son a cup of coffee. He knew what was coming, but had prayed fervently that he was wrong. It didn’t matter who that child was – it was a tragedy, but he’d helped Martha Morris search for her brood hours earlier and there was still one not accounted for.<\/p>\n

“The young’un was Sally Morris.”<\/p>\n

Ben heard the despair in his son’s voice and read the distress on his face as he grasped at Hoss’ arm.<\/p>\n

“We were too slow, Pa!”<\/p>\n

“Hoss, we could not possibly save them all.”<\/p>\n

Hoss hung his head as he scrubbed a hand through his hair. There were too many bodies that had now been moved over to the tiny schoolhouse for families to identify and he knew what his father said was true. Still, it didn’t do anything to shift the massive lump of guilt that clawed at his gut. Ogden would never look the same again. It may never recover from the flash flood that had claimed at least twelve of its citizens that they knew of and wiped out many of the smaller buildings.<\/p>\n

“Where’s Joe’n Adam?”<\/p>\n

Ben shifted and pushed himself to his feet, suddenly needing to find them. It was an irrational thought, but it had been too long since he’d seen his boys. Adam had been up by the railhead, trying to help drive out the corralled herds away from the rushing water while Joe had been \u2026.. Ben felt his breath hitch as he suddenly realised he had no idea where Joe had been for the last few hours.<\/p>\n

“Pa?” Hoss was on his feet as he saw the change on his father’s face.<\/p>\n

“He was out with a couple of the hands, trying to warn people downstream.”<\/p>\n

It would be another three hours before Ben had his family and crew all accounted for. He looked around at the exhausted, filthy men as they settled to sleep on the ground. A dark thought came to mind before sleep claimed him.<\/p>\n

Many are the hearts that are weary tonight.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

\n
\n
\n

You shouldn’t mess with me. I’ll ruin everything you<\/strong> are.<\/strong><\/p>\n

China Doll<\/em> by David Bowie, Iggy Pop<\/p>\n

“You shouldn’t mess with me. I’ll ruin everything you are.”<\/p>\n

The words had been spoken over an hour ago and yet she couldn’t stop herself repeating them over and over in her thoughts. Jean’s mother had called her every bitter and spiteful name under the sun and somehow she had finally managed to shrug them off and begin her life over. The spectre of the past had never quite disappeared, but she had managed to put a leash on it and keep it under control.<\/p>\n

Well \u2026 somewhat under control.<\/p>\n

But this night something was very different. Ben Cartwright was not Jean de Marigny. He was an honourable man who did not belong in New Orleans with its seedy underside and veneer of respectability that so callously glossed over a thousand sins. He did not deserve to be sullied by her past or dragged down by her reputation.<\/p>\n

And yet she could not resist. His voice sent chills up her spine and she found herself searching the crowded room for his presence. She should have been running from it and he should have been shunning her. She had fled outside for some air as the room had begun to close in on her. She had lived all her life in the heat of the city and it had never bothered her before.<\/p>\n

“There you are.”<\/p>\n

Marie heard the words and knew without turning that it was him. She should send him away. She knew how to use her most cutting words to shred a man to pieces, having done it many times before.<\/p>\n

“I was worried I had upset you.”<\/p>\n

The voice did nothing to settle her stomach and she grasped at the porch railing as if it were some kind of lifeline.<\/p>\n

“I’m sorry for my insensitivity. Where I come from, speech is more \u2026 forthright.”<\/p>\n

Marie slowly turned to see him watching her. “You mean more honest.”<\/p>\n

Ben had the grace to look down at his boots as he considered her words. He hated the games that the elite and powerful of New Orleans played. He struggled to remind himself that he was an outsider who needed to sell his furs and return to his boys. He needed to play the game.<\/p>\n

Marie studied his hands as Ben twisted the rim of his hat through his fingers. He seemed ill at ease in the finery and yet it suited him so well. They were working hands, calloused from many years of hard physical labour. The same kind of labour that Jean would have done. She tried to envisage him in a cowboy’s clothing rather than his clothes he had once worn. The image caught her by surprise and she gasped.<\/p>\n

Ben looked up and reached towards her.<\/p>\n

“Are you all right?”<\/p>\n

“I am fine, monsieur. Tell me something.”<\/p>\n

“Anything.”<\/p>\n

“Was Jean \u2026 did he find what he was looking for in the West?”<\/p>\n

“I believe so.”<\/p>\n

Marie looked out over the garden below. Could it be possible?<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

\n
\n
\n

God only knows what I’d be without you.<\/strong><\/p>\n

God Only Knows<\/em> by Brian Wilson, Tony Asher<\/p>\n

Candy pulled his hat from his head with one hand and wiped a filthy piece of cloth across his face before shoving it back into his pocket. Not that it would make much difference as the sweat would soon be running down into his eyes again. The heat was relentless, but so was Joe. The man had barely stopped for a drink all morning and Candy knew his hands had to be hurting underneath those black leather gloves of his. It wasn’t all that long ago that they had been swathed in bandages and Hop Sing’s odd smelling ointments. Candy shrugged as he watched his friend at work. He didn’t know how long it would take for Joe to work his way clear of the thundercloud that hung over him, but what he did know was that he would be there when the rain burst forth and the cloud finally dissipated. He glanced up into the cloudless blue sky and a smile crossed his face. A thunderstorm would be very welcome right about now.<\/p>\n

Candy picked up his sledgehammer and began to swing once more at the heavy wooden post. It slowly sunk its roots into the baked ground below and he watched with satisfaction as the notch he had marked earlier inched below the soil line. He halted his final swing and lowered the hammer to the ground. Further down the fence line, he could see that Joe had two more similar posts standing straight and true. If nothing else, Joe’s anger was getting them through their work at a faster pace than they were used to.<\/p>\n

Suddenly he felt, rather than saw, Joe sway sideways and he raced across the space between them in time to catch his friend before he fell. Joe’s face was flushed and beads of sweat rolled down from under the curls that had greyed even more in recent months.<\/p>\n

“Easy, buddy.” Candy propped Joe against a tree before hurrying over to grab a water canteen. He pulled the same sweat-soaked cloth from his pocket and poured water over it. Joe’s eyes were drooping closed as Candy wiped the cloth over his face.<\/p>\n

“I’m sorry,” Joe mumbled as Candy poured fresh water onto the cloth and then dribbled water into his mouth.<\/p>\n

“What for?”<\/p>\n

“Everything!”<\/p>\n

Candy settled back on his haunches as he continued trying to cool his friend.<\/p>\n

“That’s a big list.”<\/p>\n

Joe reached a hand for the canteen and took a long draw of water before fixing Candy with a stare.<\/p>\n

“Why are you still here?”<\/p>\n

“Ahh \u2026 I work here.”<\/p>\n

“Not what I mean. You said you could leave anytime. Pa agreed when you signed on. Why’re you still here?”<\/p>\n

Candy felt a joke rise to his lips, but one look at Joe’s face killed it.<\/p>\n

“You’re my family. Only one I’ve got. God only knows what I’d be without you.”<\/p>\n

“Same here. It would have been so easy to just \u2026 let go.”<\/p>\n

Candy could have sworn it was raining.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

\n
\n
\n

I cheated myself. Like I knew I would.<\/strong><\/p>\n

I’m No Good<\/em> by Amy Winehouse.<\/p>\n

The barkeep watched as the game of poker seemed to increase in intensity. He kept polishing glasses as if he wasn’t really concerned, but he had already subtly edged closer to where he had a loaded shotgun stashed under the counter. In a town with only one lawman around, it paid to have back up available if trouble erupted. He wasn’t above throwing a punch or two if he needed to, but usually the shotgun was enough of a deterrent.<\/p>\n

Usually.<\/p>\n

He glanced up, noting the two recent holes in the plaster ceiling and shook his head at the memory of the two drunkards who had refused to listen when told politely to leave the premises. Of course, he would have preferred to unload both barrels in their obnoxious hides as they had thrown drunken taunts at him, but he had enough self-control to stop himself.<\/p>\n

Just.<\/p>\n

The sheriff was a good man, but even he would have had a hard time defending that one. Harris looked across again at the group at the far table and shook his head. That new fella had something of an air of trouble about him. He’d been shuffling those cards all afternoon and taking on several of his best customers at round after round of poker.<\/p>\n

He was young and cocky. It had initially appeared to Harris that this young pup either didn’t know how to play poker well or was just drawing in his prey. Either approach could be dangerous and he kept a close eye on the game. Suddenly a shout was followed closely by the unmistakable click of a gun being cocked. Both players were on their feet and Harris grasped at the shotgun almost automatically.<\/p>\n

The young fella had his pistol pointed squarely at the other player’s chest. Harris knew Andy wasn’t above a little sleight of hand and he rounded the bar as Andy pointed angrily at the stranger.<\/p>\n

“You cheated! You didn’t have no ace of spades!”<\/p>\n

The young fella just stared right back, calmly assured by his pistol still aimed at Andy’s chest before he’d been quick enough to draw his own weapon.<\/p>\n

“And how would you know that?”<\/p>\n

Andy sputtered in fury as he pointed at his friends at the table.<\/p>\n

“They know too! You didn’t have no ace!”<\/p>\n

The two friends sat on either side, uncertain of just how to respond. It wasn’t like Andy hadn’t stashed a card or two up a sleeve before, but this time they were three against one and the one was a stranger. A stranger holding a gun on them.<\/p>\n

When he looked back later and relayed the story to Sheriff Wilson, Harris couldn’t quite explain how he’d gotten that young fella to back down with nothing more than a curse before walking away. He’d been certain Andy was going to end up with a hole in him.<\/p>\n

“I never cheated you!”<\/p>\n

“I cheated myself. Like I knew I would,” Clay muttered as he walked towards the door.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n

No, it isn’t very pretty what a town without pity can do.<\/strong><\/p>\n

A Town Without Pity<\/em> by Dimitri Tiomkin and Ned Washington<\/p>\n

“Pa.”<\/p>\n

Ben looked up from his paperwork at the sound of Joe’s voice. He was supposed to be finishing the schoolwork he had conveniently forgotten about the week before. Now he was spending his Saturday afternoon doing what he should have done already. Ben looked at the boy, trying not to allow his irritation show. The note home from his teacher had explained that Joe had chosen to ignore the assignment. It wasn’t like Little Joe hated school as much as Hoss had, but he certainly didn’t put in any effort with some tasks beyond the bare minimum. It still amazed him sometimes just how different his three sons were.<\/p>\n

“Pa?”<\/p>\n

Ben startled to realised he hadn’t responded and he looked again to see Joe staring at him.<\/p>\n

“Yes, Son.”<\/p>\n

“Pa \u2026 did you \u2026 I mean \u2026”<\/p>\n

“Joseph, I am busy with finishing these contract calculations and you have work to do, young man.”<\/p>\n

Joe swallowed and looked down at his page with barely a dozen words.<\/p>\n

Something in his son’s posture alerted Ben that this wasn’t just a timewasting attempt and he started over.<\/p>\n

“What did you want to know?”<\/p>\n

Joe looked up again and Ben was surprised at the look on his face.<\/p>\n

“Joe?”<\/p>\n

“Pa, did you ever think about stopping someplace before you got to \u2026 well before you found the Ponderosa?”<\/p>\n

Ben almost smiled at the wording as he hadn’t just found the place they all called home. He had carved it out of the wilderness, but Joe was too young to have any other memory besides what they all enjoyed now.<\/p>\n

“A few times.” Ben found himself transported to a small town with a general store tended by a lady with a pretty face and a lilting voice. He’d have stayed put there if she had insisted on it and built a home for his family in a different place.<\/p>\n

“Why didn’t you stay? Didn’t you get sick of movin’ all the time?”<\/p>\n

“No.” Ben paused as he recalled his introduction to that same town. “It isn’t very pretty what a town without pity can do.”<\/p>\n

“Huh?”<\/p>\n

Ben looked up to see Joe’s puzzled expression. He decided he needed to shift the focus of the conversation back where it belonged. Namely, why was his son not doing his assignment as expected?<\/p>\n

“Joseph, what exactly are you meant to be writing about?”<\/p>\n

Joe shifted uncomfortably in his chair as he frowned again at the almost blank paper.<\/p>\n

“We’re s’posed to write about where our family comes from and how they came to live here.”<\/p>\n

“So what’s the problem?”<\/p>\n

“I was just thinkin’ that you and Adam took years just to get here. If you woulda went a different way \u2026 or got lost \u2026 you would never have \u2026 I wouldn’t \u2026 ”<\/p>\n

Ben quickly made his way over towards his son. He hooked a thumb under his chin and lifted his small face upward.<\/p>\n

“Joseph, I came exactly the right way to get here.”<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

\n
\n
\n

Whiskey for my men, beer for my horses.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Beer for My Horses<\/em> by Scott Emerich\/Toby Keith
\n<\/strong><\/p>\n

Adam sat with a boot propped up on the edge of the nearest chair and took another sip of the lukewarm beer. It was flat as well, but at least it was wet. It was the only positive thing he could say about it as he took another mouthful. He’d flipped with Joe as to who was going to stable the horses and who would order the cold beers, but it seemed they had both lost. He knew that Joe should be coming along soon enough and Adam had a fair idea what his little brother was going to say about the sad state of the town’s only saloon and its even sadder excuse for a beer.<\/p>\n

Still, beggars couldn’t be choosers and the next watering hole was well over forty miles away. Neither of them had had the energy to press on and a cold beer and a soft bed had sounded good. Adam took another sip of beer as he glanced up the stairs. Hopefully, the beds might be a better deal than the beer, but he wasn’t going to bet on that one either.<\/p>\n

He looked towards the batwing doors and wondered what was taking Joe so long. It had been a blistering hot day and the horses were both looking the worse for wear. Adam smiled to himself as he could see Joe giving instructions to the livery owner about what his horse needed. Sometimes he wondered who was more spoiled \u2013 Joe or Cochise?<\/p>\n

Finally his younger brother wandered through the door, hat in hand and wiping at his reddened face with a dusty bandana. Adam waved him over and Joe pushed around a couple of drunken patrons to slide into the chair opposite. He grasped at the beer his brother had waiting for him and took a long gulp. Adam almost laughed at the sour face his brother pulled as he raised his own half-empty glass.<\/p>\n

“It’s wet.”<\/p>\n

Joe licked at his lips and frowned at the glass.<\/p>\n

“About all I can say for it.”<\/p>\n

Before Adam could comment further, three men pushed through the doors and one of them pounded on the bar. The barkeep came sauntering over towards them.<\/p>\n

“Whiskey for my men, beer for my horses.”<\/p>\n

Joe looked at Adam as the trio leaned on the bar.<\/p>\n

“Say what?” The barkeep held a glass in one hand and the cloth he’d been using to wipe it was now motionless in the other.<\/p>\n

“Well I’ve tasted your beer and it ain’t fit for people to drink. Maybe our horses would like it instead.”<\/p>\n

The barkeep stared at the obvious leader of the group before slowly cracking a grin. He draped the towel over his shoulder as he reached under the bar and grasped a bottle of whiskey.<\/p>\n

Joe snickered at the comment as his brother just smiled at him.<\/p>\n

Adam nodded and took another gulp of his beer.<\/p>\n

“Can’t argue with that, I guess.”<\/p>\n

“Sure you can. Everybody knows that horses prefer coffee!”<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Tags:\u00a0 Adam Cartwright,\u00a0Angst,\u00a0APM,\u00a0Ben Cartwright,\u00a0brothers,\u00a0Candy Canaday,\u00a0ESB,\u00a0ESH,\u00a0ESJ,\u00a0Family,\u00a0Grief,\u00a0Hop Sing,\u00a0Hoss Cartwright,\u00a0JAM,\u00a0Joe \/ Little Joe Cartwright,\u00a0JPM,\u00a0Marie Cartwright,\u00a0Paul Martin,\u00a0Roy Coffee,\u00a0SAS,\u00a0SJS<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n

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<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Summary: A few more Pinecone Challenges for my pet squirrel to gnaw on. Each chapter has a lyric prompt and had to be no more than 500 words.<\/p>\n

Word Count: 8885 Rating: T<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":9743,"featured_media":30755,"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_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[2,23,4,41,30,8,13,40],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-18334","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-actionadventure","category-drama","category-humor","category-hurtcomfort","category-prequels","category-short-stories","category-whn","category-challenges","wpcat-2-id","wpcat-23-id","wpcat-4-id","wpcat-41-id","wpcat-30-id","wpcat-8-id","wpcat-13-id","wpcat-40-id"],"a3_pvc":{"activated":true,"total_views":5303,"today_views":0},"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/10\/squirrel-1.jpg?fit=201%2C224&ssl=1","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[{"id":6200,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=6200","url_meta":{"origin":18334,"position":0},"title":"What Do You Want in A Man (by Annie K Cowgirl)","author":"Annie K Cowgirl","date":"June 27, 2011","format":false,"excerpt":"Summary:\u00a0A poem I wrote for the Man In Black's birthday. Rated:\u00a0K+ (260 words)","rel":"","context":"In "Poetry"","block_context":{"text":"Poetry","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?cat=9"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/05\/Adam-Stories.jpg?fit=637%2C480&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/05\/Adam-Stories.jpg?fit=637%2C480&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/05\/Adam-Stories.jpg?fit=637%2C480&ssl=1&resize=525%2C300 1.5x"},"classes":[]},{"id":6493,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=6493","url_meta":{"origin":18334,"position":1},"title":"We Dance (by MissJudy)","author":"missjudy","date":"May 4, 2014","format":false,"excerpt":"Summary: \u00a0This was a poem I wrote shortly after Pernell Roberts death, remembering his accomplishments and wonderful character. It's not sad! Those who love Adam or Pernell or any of his other characters will understand exactly what I'm writing about. 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