This is the second in a four story set dealing with the near destruction and return of Elizabeth's Bible. The Book of Ben tells of his reminiscence over an incident involving Adam and Hoss and the re-enactment of David and Goliath. It is not necessary to read The Book of Joseph to enjoy this story. There are references in here to understand what happened, and this stands alone as a tale of family fun.
The Book of Ben
"Where's that calendar?" Ben grumbled as he looked through the stack of papers that had piled up on the corner of his desk. "I know I put it with the pad of paper on top of this stack yesterday." More rummaging was followed with an angry, "Those two know better than to handle these papers, and if they…" His words were cut short as a sheepish grin replaced the scowl. The tablet and calendar were dead center on his desk, awaiting his daily entry—right where he'd left them prior to going for a glass of water.
He continued chuckling as he began adding notes to the page where he'd left off until he was jolted from his concentration when the door flew open and Hoss charged in at full speed.
"Hoss! Slow down and don't slam that…"
Every piece of glass in the house rattled with the force of the door as it slammed back into its frame.
"How many times do I have to tell you to close the door, not slam it?" Ben's earlier scowl returned.
The ever-growing, ever-hungry, nearly teenaged son dropped down in the chair near his father's desk. "Sorry, Pa, I forget cuz I'm always in a hurry."
"Son, is there anything to be in that much of a hurry about?" Ben now grinned as he waited for what wisdom his middle son was surely about to impart.
"I'm not in a hurry 'bout 'anythin', Pa. I'm in a hurry 'bout everythin'."
"Ah, I see." Ben nodded in understanding. He knew that Hoss truly was always in a hurry about everything. It was as if life held so much for him that he had to charge at it full speed or he might miss out. "So what are you in a hurry about today?"
"First off, I'm hungry as an ol' black bear after hibernatin' all winter, and figgered it had to be nearly lunch time. I also had to tell ya that I saw that old mama possum out by the barn again today. She had them babies all jest a hangin' there on her back. It was so purely amazin', Pa, I was tempted to bring 'em in here to show ya."
One eye narrowed as Ben recalled the many times his middle son had rushed through the door carrying some critter he'd found or rescued. Unfortunately most of those critters had no desire to be found—or rescued—resulting in some interesting chases through the house when they'd escaped Hoss's grasp. They'd hidden under furniture, run up the chimney or had taken off into Hop Sing's kitchen, creating chaos and threats of resignation from the cook. Ben sighed in great gratitude that the possum had been left outside. "Well, thank you for resisting the temptation. I saw Hop Sing in the kitchen a few minutes ago, so I think you're right about lunch. Why don't you round up Little Joe, and then both of you get cleaned up."
"Okay, Pa. You know they're marsupials, don't ya?"
Ben had already turned his attention back to the notes he'd been writing, but had refocused on his son when he'd realized that Hoss was still there—waiting for his reply. "What are marsupials, Hoss?"
The impatience at having to repeat his thought washed over Hoss' features. He spoke slowly and clearly, so his "elderly father" could understand. "The possum, Pa. Adam told me that they're marsupials. He said the mama has tiny babies that stay in a pouch on her front side until they're old enough to come out." Hoss waited to see if his vast knowledge of things related to possums had registered with his father, and seeing Ben's smile, he puffed his chest out a little more. "I learned lots of stuff from Adam: important things, like about animals with pockets." Hoss appeared thoughtful for a moment before asking, "Pa, how'd Adam get so smart?"
"I'm not sure about that, son, but it's a question I've asked myself from the time he was small. Adam always seemed to know more than a child had the want to, and his information was always dead-on. But he's always paid attention, Hoss, and he's studied hard too. So you understand that he works hard to know the things he does, don't you?"
"Unhuh." Hoss probably heard some of what his father said, but was now more interested in what was on the desk. Leaning over to get a better view, he was able to see what was there even though Ben tried to shield the papers from the boy's prying eyes. "Pa, are you still marking off the calendar every day that Adam's gone? Maybe you shouldn't be doing that? It jest gets you to broodin' all over again."
Ben wanted to say that he would "brood" as long as he wanted to over Adam's absence, and that he would surely miss him every day until he returned. It didn't matter that he knew Adam was doing what he wanted and needed to do, or that he'd given his blessing to his eldest when he'd left. It only mattered that his heart always felt empty by a third with Adam gone. But instead of trying to tell Hoss these things, he simply said, "Please get your brother as I asked you to do. We'll have lunch in about twenty minutes."
As Hoss turned to leave, he spotted Adam's Bible on the front corner of his father's desk and picked it up. "Hey, Hop Sing finally got this back from his cousin? I didn't ever think it would come out this good!"
Ben recalled the day that Adam had brought the seemingly ruined book into the house after Little Joe had taken it without asking, and then had left it outside in the rain. The Bible had belonged to Elizabeth and was one of the few connections his son still had to his mother. It had seemed ruined, but Hop Sing had thought his cousin might be able to repair the book. Adam had to leave it behind when he'd left for school a few days later, with no guarantees that he would ever get it back in usable condition. Ben could still remember his always-stoic boy, breaking down in grief over the wet, matted mess. But later that day, he had watched with pride as Adam had forgiven his youngest brother. In that moment, he knew that Adam understood the words of Scripture that told of forgiveness and love even when it might not be deserved. Those verses were written on Adam's heart, not just on the pages of a book.
Glancing again at Elizabeth's Bible, Ben had to agree that the cousin had done a magnificent restoration. The leather was softened with the grain returned to normal, and the pages had been smoothed and separated. It wasn't perfect, but there was little evidence of the water damage that had nearly destroyed it.
Ben had a moment of panic as he watched Hoss begin thumbing through the pages with the same hands that had moments earlier been chasing down a possum, and heaven only knew what else. He couldn't bear the thought that something might happen to it before it got back to its owner. "You're right. It does look good, Hoss. Now, please put it down! We don't want it to get dirty or damaged again."
"I was jest looking at it, Pa. I wasn't gonna do nothin' to it."
"I'm sorry, Hoss. I didn't mean to snap at you. I hope to send it along with Fred McCarthy, who's heading to San Francisco for supplies next week. He'll get it on a ship and it should reach Adam at his grandfather's in a couple of months." After thinking for a moment, he added, "It would be a nice idea if you'd write a note to your brother and stick it in the Bible before I wrap it up. That would give Adam a special surprise. I'll help Little Joe write something too."
Hoss stood looking at his father, unsure of what that meant.
Noting the blank stare, Ben clarified. "That means your letter must be done by next Monday."
"Oh. Okay, Pa. I'll do it later." Hoss flashed a grin at his pa and headed for the door, hollering back that he was "Gonna get Joe for lunch."
The glass in the house rattled again as Hoss bounded out the door—slamming it behind him.
Ben leaned back and thought about the conversation with his middle son. The boy had something about him that was always true. Hoss had been correct in saying that he was hurrying about everything. In fact each of his boys were that way.
Hoss charged through life, trying to make sense of it. He wanted to feel, touch and care for whatever he came across. There was nothing he wouldn't tackle and he always found some satisfaction in doing any job. The boy always approached life with a positive spirit; it was just his nature. He had a spiritual sense about him and would always find who and what needed his care. Ben had seen Hoss' amazement as he observed each wonder of the Ponderosa, and knew that this son would never leave until he had every square inch of his home committed to his memory.
Little Joe rushed at life to conquer it. He was still young, but Ben saw the determination in his eyes as he took on new ideas or skills. He pushed the limits of everything he did—including the limits of parental and brotherly tolerance. Joe had a fire for life that could not be quenched.
And Adam rushed at life to possess it. He wanted to know the ways of everything, absorbing knowledge like a dry cloth in a bucket of water. His eldest was never satisfied with himself until he owned the ideas and knowledge he seemed to need so desperately. Ben shook his head as he considered how this constant striving contributed to an almost naiveté that left Adam discouraged at times. It seemed that because this child needed to learn as much as he needed to breathe, he was always surprised and offended by the fact that others were content to stop learning or to misuse the knowledge they had attained. Ben had actually seen Adam experience pain when he saw people break laws, commandments or trust, and knew his child struggled to understand how people could know things, yet not treat that knowledge with respect.
Adam had been gone almost a year already and communication with him was sparse. It was not easy to get letters and packages across the country, and Ben longed for a better system of postal service to make it to the "edge of nowhere," as his boys called where they lived. They had received notes telling of Adam's safe arrival in St. Louis, and finally in Boston—getting there in time to go through the testing process for admission to the university—and that he had been accepted. But nothing more had come through for several months. Ben had experienced his first holidays without all three boys and had brooded over the absence just as Hoss had said. He wondered how Adam had fared during the same time, but suspected that the loneliness had been eased by being with his grandfather in the house where his mother had lived.
Ben had started keeping a daily log of home events that he could send off to Adam whenever there was opportunity. His embarrassment flushed his cheeks again as he realized that Hoss had been right about the calendar too. He did mark off each day and would continue until Adam was home. It gave him solace to see the number of crossed off days accumulating, because it meant his son's return was more imminent. If that made him a fool, he accepted it with fatherly pride.
Listening for a moment, he confirmed that the boys were still hollering outside in the yard and he knew they'd momentarily forgotten about lunch as they'd resumed their game. Sliding the Bible closer, he picked it up and while settling it in his hand, the book fell open to 1 Samuel 17. A memory bathed Ben's face as he began to read, causing him to stop and search through the papers in a desk drawer until he found a drawing of Adam that a friend did a few years back. It wasn't a perfect image of his son, but it had what Ben wanted to see: the half-inch scar on his upper lip. Ben moved his finger gently across the rendering, recommitting Adam's features to his memory, before turning back to the Bible passage.
And there went out a champion out of the camp of the Philistines, named Goliath, of Gath, whose height was six cubits and a span.
Still hearing the boys' voices in the midst of play outside the open window, Ben realized that he would have a few moments alone and allowed himself to dissolve away to a Sunday a few months after he'd come home from New Orleans…with Marie. It had turned out to be a day when his family had faced a serious situation, but it had also been the day when the four of them had begun to feel like a real family. He'd also learned just how strong his new wife could be.
As he allowed himself the pleasure of remembering, the events became as real and jarring as they were then.
David and Goliath
Ben finished reading the story of David and Goliath in first Samuel to find wide-eyed wonder reflecting from five-year-old Hoss.
"Wow, that was some good story, Pa. That kid stopped that big ole' guy with one smooth stone! Wish I knew how to do that!"
Since there was no church in the territory, Ben honored each Sabbath by reading a Bible story to his family, followed by an explanation of what it might mean for each of them. After hearing Hoss's comment, the father knew he had some mighty explaining to do to help the child understand what the story of David was really about. "You're right; it was a mighty thing for David to do. But that's just the end of the story, not the whole story."
Hoss seemed disappointed, and Ben could tell he wasn't interested in hearing the "whole story" again, but he went forward anyway. "Hoss, remember how David tended his animals and protected them from the wild lions and bears?"
This brought the little boy's interest back and he nodded vigorously. "We got bears, but just mountain lions 'round these parts, right, Pa?"
"That's right, son. And we watch over our animals just like David did. As you get older, you'll learn that taking care of something means protecting it too. That's all called preparation. Do you understand that?"
"What do I need to get preparation for, Pa?"
Adam chimed in. "All those things you do all the time but don't seem like anything special, get you ready for when something big comes up. Is that it, Pa?"
"That's exactly right. David did what his earthly father asked him to do. He tended his flocks and learned how to defend them, and then when the opportunity arose to serve his heavenly Father and nation, he was ready."
Hoss's squint and puckered mouth testified to the fact that he was still confused, so Ben tried again. "Do you remember me reading the part about how there was a long battle going on between the Jewish nation and the Philistines—that's who Goliath fought for?" Hoss's nod confirmed that he did. "Goliath didn't want to fight the whole army so he called for just one brave man to fight against him. But all of the Jewish soldiers, and even David's brothers, were afraid of him."
"'Cause that Goliath feller was a giant, right, Pa?"
"That's right, Hoss. They were all afraid to fight a sword battle with him because they knew they weren't strong enough. Now David wasn't a soldier, but his father sent him to the army camp with things for his older brothers, and when he got there, he saw a different way around the problem of fighting Goliath, and talked to King Saul about his idea. But did his brothers think he was being brave?"
The questioning look from Hoss made Adam respond. "No, Pa. They said he was a kid and should go home."
"But that didn't stop David, did it?" Both boys shook their heads no. "He decided to fight Goliath like he did the wild beasts that threatened his flocks. That way he didn't even need to get near him!" And did that work?"
"Yes!" shouted Hoss.
"The lesson here, son, is not that David killed Goliath, but that he trusted what he knew how to do, and he trusted that God would help him do what an entire army couldn't. David was obedient to both his fathers and was successful because of it."
The lesson ended on a happy note, and Ben was even happier when Adam came to him later, explaining that he and Hoss were going to resurrect the "Cartwright Players" to act out the story of David and Goliath. He carefully laid out how they would do it; said they'd already practiced, and finally asked that his father play a small role.
The name "Cartwright Players" had brought back good memories for Ben. It was the name he and Adam had used when they'd performed skits and stories for the other travelers in their journey across the plains. Father and son would plan out short plays while they traveled and then act them out in the evenings around the campfire. The productions were popular entertainment with everyone and as time went on, other members of the group were encouraged to join in. Even Inger had helped to plan them, and was finally convinced to contribute some fine acting. They had discontinued the productions after Inger's death, but others had encouraged them to bring their skits back and in the end it had provided a great sense of release for both of them.
Ben found Marie in the house and flashed a broad smile as he told her the news. "It seems, my dear, that we have been invited to the social event of the season."
And just what might this event be, my love?"
"The Cartwright Players have requested our presence outside so that they might present the theatrical version of David and Goliath."
A play? How marvelous!" Marie replied enthusiastically as her eyes welled with tears.
Ben knew that Marie was still getting used to being the woman in a household of men. And while Hoss easily gave his love and enjoyed having a mother, Adam remained far more wary. He was respectful of her position in the family, but he kept his distance. As a father who knew his son very well, Ben knew this play was Adam's way to include Marie in a family event, and as a husband, he saw how much the inclusion meant to his wife.
Ben quickly added, "A word of caution, love. I am to be in this production as well, so I'll be leaving your side for a short time."
Marie smiled coyly. "I will miss you madly, sir."
The two held hands as they walked outside to the chairs that had been brought from the house. Marie stared at the yard in amazement, noting the props and "stage." Ben smiled as he saw her expression. "Now you know why you heard the whispers and pounding up and down the steps earlier as you tried to rest after lunch. The boys were very busy getting ready."
A canvas tarp covered with pine boughs, adorned the side of their buckboard, giving it the illusion of a mountainside. Adam stood atop the "mountain" wrapped in a sheet, draped in short military fashion, held in place around his waist by the sash he borrowed from Ben's robe. "Greetings," he addressed them. "The Cartwright Players will now present the story of David and Goliath. Hoss Cartwright will play David; Pa, will be King Saul, and I am Goliath."
Ducking down into the bed of the wagon, Adam reappeared wielding a wooden sword made from a rough board with a cross piece lashed just above the near end as the hilt. Thrusting the sword into the air, he began. "I am Goliath, the strong and powerful Philistine warrior who has come to challenge one man from the army of Saul to face me in a fight to the death. The fight will decide the outcome of this battle and the fate of the loser's army. But know this; I will smite any challenger with a single blow from my sword and let the birds of the air pick his bones clean. I defy Saul and his God this day. Send me your champion that I might make fast work of him."
Marie watched in wonder as Adam spoke his lines. Leaning over toward Ben, she raised her hand to shield her mouth as she asked, "What kind of eleven-year-old boy can take those difficult verses from a Bible passage and make them so understandable?"
Smiling proudly, Ben had leaned to her ear and whispered, "Ours."
They lingered in the moment as Marie realized that Ben had included her as an equal in the raising of his sons. However, when their eyes turned forward again, they found a very impatient Philistine waiting for their focus.
Pointing his sword toward the two of them, the mighty warrior proclaimed, "You two might want to listen better." Dropping his sword to his side for a moment, Adam's expression took on a very self-satisfied glow as he saw both adults blush at being caught in a less than attentive posture.
With the adults properly chastised, Adam raised his sword again. "Where is your champion, oh Saul? Why does it take so long to find a worthy opponent? I call upon the Israelites to find their challenger or I will continue to taunt you until you do."
The silence lingered after Adam finished his challenge, and he looked toward his father, finally using his sword to indicate that he should rise.
"Oh, I guess that's my cue." Ben moved over nearer Hoss who was leaning against the hitching rail awaiting his entrance. Raising one hand to his chest, Ben proclaimed, "Who will be my champion? Whoever shall conquer the Philistine shall be given great wealth and tribute."
Hoss, costumed in a wrapping of sheepskin tied about his sturdy girth with a length of twine and wreath of leaves around his head, continued to draw shapes in the dust with the toe of his boot. After a few moments of inactivity, Adam whispered loudly, "Hoss! Say your lines."
Hoss looked from his pa to Adam and then back to his feet. "I can't say them words, Adam," he said softly.
"What do you mean you can't say them? We practiced, Hoss. You can do it. You're supposed to say, 'I'm a simple shepherd, but I can slay Goliath, O King. I've tended my sheep and killed the wild lion and bear that attacked them with my slingshot, and can kill the Philistine the same way."
"That was good, Adam!" Hoss was excited now, thinking he could get out of speaking his part. "Why don't you just say that, okay?"
"No! You have to say it. I'm Goliath. You're David." Looking beseechingly at Ben, Adam pleaded, "Pa, please make him say the lines."
"Hoss, will you please say them?"
"But I can't. It's not that I don't want to. I just can't There's too many words to remember."
Adam slouched into the leaning position he adopted when he was frustrated. Sighing deeply and loudly, he finally said, "Say whatever you can, Hoss. But please just say something."
With a huge smile, Hoss drew his shoulders back, pointed at Adam, and cried. "I'll kill that big fella for ya, Mr. King."
In the audience, Marie stifled a laugh, and then hollered, "Bravo, David!"
It was time for Ben's final lines and he squared his shoulders, letting forth a mighty voice as he sent David to battle the giant. Taking his place by Marie again, he pulled her to him, "High drama on the Ponderosa today, ma'am. Might you be a theater critic from the newspapers back East?"
Marie shushed him as Hoss began to move forward. Then realizing what was coming next, she leaned to her husband and quietly asked about the slingshot.
Noting the panic in her eyes, Ben smiled and pointed toward the object Hoss was holding, noting that Marie visibly relaxed at seeing the simple leather lacing strung through a piece of hide. It had the appearance of the real thing, but wasn't functional.
The play continued with Goliath the Philistine, laughing at David—taunting him; calling him a child, come to do a man's job. "It is no matter that you are small. Come forth and I will do to you as I would to any other challenger."
Hoss got into the spirit of the play as he hollered back that he was there to "Save his people from the mean giant." He readied a stone in his slingshot as he spoke the next words, bringing a low chuckle from the male member of the audience. "I must be obedient to my pa. I mean God."
The stone flew from Hoss' hand rather than the slingshot, missing Goliath's head by yards. But Adam did a fine acting job of being be stunned by the impact and toppled—or rather jumped—from the wagon mountain, ending up face down with his sword lying at his side. When Hoss made no move to come upon him for the slaying, Adam whispered, "Hoss, Grab the sword, cut off my head and say the last line!"
"Oh, yeah!" Hoss, now back on track, ran to pick up the sturdy wooden sword in both hands, and stood over Adam as he raised it above his head. The silence lingered for a moment until Hoss whispered, "Adam, I can't remember what I'm 'sposed to say now."
Adam mumbled, "I do this for my God and my people."
"Huh? I didn't hear you, Adam. Say it louder."
With another sigh of frustration, Adam rolled onto his back and repeated the line for his little brother. "I do this for my God and my people."
And that's when the day got even more interesting…
Pulling himself out of his memories, Ben rose to look out the window, making sure the boys were still occupied. He could see them chasing each other and Ben figured they were playing some game they had quickly made up. He couldn't quite understand the rules but he knew Little Joe had come up with the idea for this one since it involved speed and agility. When comparing the size of the two boys, Joe would never win games that pitted him against Hoss in strength. But the youngster could run like the wind, and darted around Hoss so quickly that eventually Hoss had to give up in and would just laugh as he watched the youngster run circles around him.
Ben could see that Hoss was still giving chase, which meant he had a few minutes yet before they would be in for lunch. Thankful for the chance to return to his reminiscence, he moved back to his chair where he took another look at Adam's picture, and let his mind wander back to the slaying of Goliath.
"I do this for God and my people!" Hoss cried out as he raised the wooden sword even higher above his head and then swung it in a downward arc.
Marie and Ben held their breath, waiting for Hoss to pull back and slow the object's descent. But he didn't, and Marie was already on her feet moving toward the boys as the sword connected.
Had Adam not rolled onto his back moments earlier to give Hoss his final line, he would still have been face down and the sword might have glanced off his shoulder as planned. But the very strong five-year-old hadn't waited for his brother to return to his stomach, and his trajectory had gone several inches higher than he'd intended. Adam had been looking straight up into his younger brother eyes as the wooden sword connected with the soft, fleshy skin above his lip, making a sound akin to cracking a hard-boiled egg.
In the eerie silence that followed the impact, Adam's hands drew instinctively to his face. Following Marie's lead, Ben had also risen and was nearing Adam's side, as he lay there dazed.
Marie ran to gather Hoss, who, on realizing what he had done, shattered the silence with the terrified shriek of a child who knows they've hurt someone—even if it was unintentional.
When Adam remained silent after being struck, Ben hoped that perhaps no real damage had been done. But that hope was soon crushed as he knelt next to him, watching in horror as blood began to seep through his interlocked fingers, running down his cheeks and neck. The earth Adam was resting on quickly became a muddy paste of dirt and blood, and Ben's head took a spin before he forced himself to breathe deeply and calm down. Adam remained silent; a fact that bothered Ben as much as the blood. Withdrawing a clean handkerchief from his pocket, he gently moved Adam's hands away from the wound and quickly covered it with the folded square of cloth.
Ben wasn't sure what Marie was doing but marveled at her fast thinking in getting Hoss away from the situation.
Noting that his handkerchief was already soaking through with blood, Ben hollered for Marie to bring out cloths for bandages. He was again impressed with his new wife as she arrived at his side and quickly added the fresh bandages on top of Ben's makeshift one while guiding his hand to apply gentle pressure. He had seen other women handle such situations well when he was on the trail west, but Marie had always seemed more fragile than those women. He was learning quickly that her petite frame and beauty were just wonderful packaging on a powerful woman.
Both father and son were equally pale and Ben realized that he had never experienced such a severe injury with his sons. He had once told Marie that his boys had the usual assortments of bumps, bruises, cuts and scrapes, but thankfully they'd never had anything that was beyond what he could care for with some sympathy and salve. He wasn't really sure what to do next until Marie spoke.
"How bad is it?" She tried to lift a corner of the rapidly soaking cloth she had applied, but Ben reached to stop her.
"I haven't really looked, but let's give it a moment. Maybe it will stop bleeding if we don't disturb it just yet.
Adam remained quiet with eyes wide and staring, unsure of what had actually happened. He raised his hands high enough to see that they were caked with drying blood. Suddenly, it all began to register: the blinding pain, the metallic tasting blood in his mouth, the teeth that seemed loose, and the tears that had been welling in his eyes began to trickle down his cheeks. "Ith it okay, Pa?" he mumbled through the bandage.
"It'll be fine, son," Ben reassured. "We'll just give it a couple of minutes before we take a better look."
Marie moved around so that she could rest Adam's head on her lap, and then spoke soothing words, while dabbing at his tears with the folds of her skirt. "You were wonderful, Adam. Don't cry, my sweet. Your father and I will take a look soon and all will be well. I'm sure it hurts badly, and I'll get you a cool cloth once the bleeding eases. You will be strong until then, yes?"
Adam nodded and relaxed against Marie's hand, leaning into her caress. When he tried to wink at her, a flood of tears rolled down his cheek, and although he had never allowed Marie's care before, he didn't seem to mind that she kissed the top of his head and his hands.
After what seemed an interminable time, the bleeding slowed; allowing the adults to take a peek at what had so far remained hidden. Ben reared back as he saw the wide split about half way across the left side of his upper lip. The father's ashen complexion and fearful look was all Marie needed to confirm the seriousness of the injury
"What'th the matter?" Adam had known the news wasn't good just by seeing the wide-eyed looks of the two faces above his. "Pa, what'th wrong?" He asked again with a definite rise in the pitch of his voice. "Why do I thound like thith?"
Ben pushed him back as Adam tried to rise. "Hush, Adam. You sound like that because you have a deep cut in your lip and the whole area is swelling."
"I wanna thee, Pa. Lemme up so I can go thee."
It was fruitless trying to hold him down, so Ben helped his son to his feet and began to walk him to the house.
The two were so wobbly as they walked that Marie observed them for a moment, trying to decide which one needed help more, and finally ran to take Adam's other arm in support. The silence as they neared the house indicated that young David had fallen asleep as the cookie Marie had given him and his exhaustion over a terrifying experience had done their job to soothe the youngster. Ben asked Marie to gather supplies to help care for the wound while he remained with Adam.
Along with towels and a basin, Marie returned with the mirror from her bedroom, and handed it to the young man seated at the table. "Here, Adam. You can take a quick look, but then we need to get that taken care of."
A stern glare from her husband was followed by the issuance of an even sterner comment that perhaps giving the boy a mirror wasn't the best idea.
He needn't have worried. Adam observed the large cut from every angle. "Thad kid'th got thome thwing, doesn' he?" He started to laugh but stopped as the stretching of his lip sent waves of pain rippling across his face. More tears escaped down his dirty cheeks, but he composed himself and asked, "Whad are we gonna do about thith?"
Ben wasn't sure. "I guess we'll just clean it up a bit and let it heal." But looking up at Marie, he knew it wasn't going to be that easy.
"Ben, may I see you in privately." It wasn't a question. Marie laid her shoulders back and walked to the farthest end of the house where their conversation wouldn't be overheard. When he made it to her side, her eyes flashed as she explained the seriousness of the situation. "Adam is a handsome youngster, Ben, and will grow to be an attractive man like his father. But that won't happen unless we stitch that lip together. You can't seriously think it will heal well otherwise? Every time he eats or bumps it, those edges will separate again and he'll be marred for life by the time it fuses."
Ben had only heard two words and was rapidly returning to his ashen color of earlier. "Stitch it? Who's going to 'stitch it?' We don't have a doctor around here."
"You," she replied as she walked over to grab her sewing basket from the table by her favorite chair. "I'll wash up a needle and thread and you can place a few stitches in that gap to hold it together.
The thought of sticking a sharp, pointed object into his son's face several times, had Ben's stomach heading simultaneously toward his throat and feet, while his head spun wildly. "I can't do that, Marie."
"You can and you will!" Her manner was commanding, leaving Ben no doubt that he could not back away, or weasel out of it. "I'm going back in the kitchen now to get things ready, and you will explain it to Adam." With a rustle of petticoats and rush of air, she turned and walked away. Looking back, she issued Ben's marching orders again. "Come along now!"
Ben wiped away the perspiration that was suddenly running down his temples and followed Marie to the kitchen. "Um, Adam. Marie, um that is, I mean, we, um, think we should put a couple stitches into that gash to hold it together better."
Adam's voice squeaked as he stood. Whad? Whadda you mean thitch? Thitch with whad?"
"Sit down, son. Marie has a very tiny needle that she does fine stitching with, don't you Marie?" He looked desperately to his wife for support. "She's getting it ready—washing it up so your cut will stay nice and clean."
"We're going to have to wash that, Adam." Marie was now at the table holding a bowl of sudsy water that smelled like homemade lye soap.
Adam's pitch continued to rise. "No you don'. You don' haf to do anything. Justh leave id alone." He was backing up as he spoke and now turned to walk toward the kitchen door. He pushed his father's hands away when he tried to guide him back, while his eyes grew as dark and round as a cornered coon.
Marie took one arm while Ben grabbed the other as they led him to the sofa in the living area. "Rest here while we get things ready, Adam. This won't be as bad as you think it will."
"Id'll be worth!" He had hollered after her.
"Son," Ben scolded, "I've never known you to act this way. Settle down. It's not like you're dying!"
"Id ith well. I die hard, I am not afraid to go."
"What are you talking about Adam?" Calling to Marie, he offered in concern, "I think he's delirious."
"Oh, Ben, he's not delirious," she called back. "He's being dramatic and quoting George Washington's final words."
"Is that right, son? Why?"
"Id theemed appropriate." While he had his father's attention and sympathy, Adam tried again. "Lemme go, Pa. I can be outta here by the time Marie getths back. You don't have to do thith."
But by that time Marie was back, and set to cleaning the wound. Ben noted that as she dabbed at the raw looking cut, Adam was clenching his fists and teeth so tightly, he'd worried the boy would crack one, the other, or both. Trying to get his son to settle down, Ben soothed, "Relax, Adam. This will all be over soon."
"Nod thoon enough!" he cried out, more irritated than in pain.
It was all Ben could handle and taking Marie aside, proposed that he give Adam some brandy to take the edge off his nerves. He could see the idea shocked her, but she warmed to it as he shared his concern, and finally told Ben to go ahead while she finished getting ready.
"You're gonna led me drink brandy? You never led us even try it. Are you thure I'm nod dying? Another attempt at a laugh produced pain so severe that he asked whether the brandy would make it hurt less.
Ben told the truth. "It will still hurt, Adam, but you won't care as much."
Both father and son chuckled as the boy tried to sip the liquid with the undamaged side of his mouth. His eyes grew large as the strength of the drink bit at his sore lip, and then hit the back of his palate, searing his throat as it went down. Ben watched as the youngster coughed and retched at first. But soon, Adam's face brightened as he experienced the warming effect, and eagerly continued taking small sips. His father knew exactly what the boy was feeling and watched as Adam got drowsy; wishing he could have a couple fingers of the brown sedative himself. By the time Marie returned carrying a tray with the freshly cleaned needle and thread, Adam's eyes were rolling and he was slurring his words, making it almost impossible to understand him.
"Hey Pa. I feel tho thrange. Ith the room thpinning or ith id me?" After dissolving in giggles, he tried to regain a more serious demeanor. "Oh, Marie, I see yer back. Whaderya gonna do now?" More giggling had followed.
"We're going to get you fixed up." Marie set the tray on the table next to the couch and gave Ben a firm look and nod of her head to get him moving before they lost the euphoric effect of the liquor.
Beads of perspiration broke out on the man's forehead again as he reached for the threaded needle. His hand shook as he approached his son's face with the pointed object and he paused, unable to make himself proceed.
Marie's foot tapped as she controlled her tongue…until she couldn't. "Ben, get going! You have to get this done. Hoss might wake up soon and then it will be even harder."
Marie held Adam's head as Ben guided the needle into the soft, tender flesh. The young man, who, a moment earlier had been half asleep, jerked away from Marie's hold and Ben's hand. His eyes went wide and frightened as he cried out in shock and pain. The father, confronted with the needle hanging there in his son's face, gave out a groan reminiscent of a horse with colic—and suddenly Marie found herself standing in complete silence—Ben on the floor where he had slumped in a daze—while Adam had passed out.
The last thing Ben heard was Marie laughing, "Some Philistine warrior and great king Saul, you two make."
When Ben regained his senses and was able to rise, he saw a neat row of perfectly placed stitches closing the gap. Marie was walking back into the room with a jar of salve to add to the stitched area when Ben asked, "You did this?"
"Who else?" She beamed as she asked, "How does it look?"
Ben wrapped his arms around her, kissing the top of her head. "You did a wonderful job. Thank you."
Adam began to rouse too, taking a moment to get his bearings. "Ith id done?" He smiled a lopsided smile with the functioning side of his face as he realized he could speak more normally. "Thankths Pa!"
"Thank Marie, son, she's the one who did it."
Adam's startled look turned to respect as Marie basked in the glory of the moment.
Sitting next to Adam, Ben wrapped an arm around him and asked if he was in pain.
"No. Well nod much. Can I see whad id looks like?" Adam tried to sit up, but when he did, his world began to spin as the shock, injury and brandy roiled his brain and stomach. "Pa, I don' feel so good."
Marie placed cool cloths on the boy's forehead and lip as Ben lifted him to move him to his bed.
A few minutes later, Ben reappeared in the kitchen wearing Adam's lunch across the front of his shirt and pants. "I guess maybe the brandy wasn't such a great idea after all. He got sick—before I could put him down." Ben gagged as he tried to explain, and finally blurted, "Please help me out, Marie. I'll never get used to this part of being a parent.
Once Ben was cleaned up and feeling stronger—thanks to the small tumbler of brandy he allowed himself to have—he spent the afternoon playing with Hoss in the yard while Marie remained inside with Adam. Checking on them later, Ben found Adam snoring loudly with his head on Marie's shoulder. She explained that when he'd awakened earlier she had read to him and jabbered away to keep their minds off the raw looking lip that she knew must hurt fiercely. When she couldn't stand Adam's silent pain any longer, she had gathered him to her, stroking his hair, and hummed French songs until he'd drifted back to sleep.
Ben took over the vigil with Adam in the evening and Marie gave Hoss the rare privilege of sleeping in their room with her. Both parents knew the youngster was still shaken by what he'd done, and they'd kept him from seeing Adam by telling him that his older brother was ill.
The next morning, Hoss went bounding into Adam's room to see if he was better, and was surprised to see his brother's swollen lip. "I'm sorry Adam," Hoss professed. "I didn't mean to hurt ya."
Adam saluted his little brother. "You were great, Hoss! Your aim wasn't so good, but you made a great David. Next time we'll practice a little more."
Ben stood in the doorway holding Marie around her waist. There was news they had planned to tell the boys yesterday, but had to delay after the "events" that had taken their time and attention. Ben now realized that this moment seemed to be the right time. "Boys," he began. "You should know that you will soon have another Cartwright Player to help in your productions."
Hoss stood in a questioning pose, not understanding what his father was saying. "What are you talkin' about? If Mama's is in the play too, there won't be anyone to watch!"
"I think they're talking about another kind of cast member, Hoss." Adam had been around when Inger had carried Hoss, and he grinned while looking toward his father for confirmation.
"Your mother is expecting a baby, Hoss."
A conspiratorial grin appeared as Hoss asked, "That's nice Pa. Where's she expectin' it from?"
"Pa? Hop Sing's expectin' us in the kitchen."
Ben's head snapped to attention as he realized Hoss was speaking to him. "What did you say, son?"
"I said, Hop Sing wants us at the table for lunch now." Hoss remained standing there as Ben stacked the papers on his desk. "Pa, would you show me the calendar that you been marking off?
"I thought you didn't think I should keep track of the days Adam's been gone." As he teased Hoss, he pulled the calendar from the stack and pushed it across the desk for him to see.
Flipping through the months, Hoss said, "Boy, Pa, that's a lot of days already. How long is he gonna be gone yet?"
"I'd say it'll be at least three or four more calendars full, before he gets back."
"Pa, it's all right if you keep track. Maybe I could even mark off some of them days too, if you wouldn't mind."
"That's just fine, Hoss. I haven't done today yet. Do you want to do it?" Ben pushed a pencil across the desk.
Hoss drew a heavy gray X through the date. "There, that's one day closer to his comin' home! Pa, you think maybe Adam's doin' the same thing over there in Boston?"
Ben had risen and rounded the desk to where Hoss stood looking sadder than he'd seen him in a while. "I bet he is, Hoss. I'm sure he misses you as much as you miss him and thinks of you every morning when he shaves."
The boy gave his father a look of understanding. "Ya mean that scar I gave him, don't ya? Hey, that was an accident, but I don't mind him havin' somethin' special to remind him of me."
"I'm sure he doesn't mind either Hoss. Come on now, you know what happens when we make Hop Sing wait."
The End.