Billy Blue Cannon awoke. As usual, it was pitch dark inside his room except for
the moonlight that streamed in through his open window and danced across his
quilt. He yawned and stretched and leaned over in his bed to light the lamp and
glance at the time on his grandfather's pocket watch...4:45! He groaned and
wondered what it would be like to let the sun beat him awake for once. Probably
never happen if Pa had anything to say about it. Speaking of Pa, Blue figured
it was high time to make his way downstairs. He wondered whether Pa would
notice or appreciate the fact that, for once, he didn't have to be hauled out of
bed. He doubted it, though. His father was a regular eagle-eye when it came to
Blue messing up, but he was pretty darn slow on the uptake whenever Blue did
something right. "Oh, well," sighed Blue to himself, stumbling sleepily across
the room to the dry sink. He splashed water over his face, trying to wash the
sleep from his eyes and wake himself up. He began to dress, fumbling clumsily
with his shirt buttons. After dressing, he stumbled sleepily down the stairs to
the front room.
Pa was sitting at the table. It was no surprise to see him as Blue knew he was
usually the last one to bed and the first one up in the morning. Blue could
also tell by the aroma emanating from the kitchen that Victoria was up and
preparing the morning meal.
"Morning, Pa," murmured Blue. John said nothing, merely nodded his head by way
of greeting and slid the coffeepot over to his son, all the time not raising his
head from his work. Blue poured himself a cup of the strong brew. After a
couple of swallows, he could feel his senses begin to stir. Soon afterwards,
Victoria carried in the breakfast trays. Blue was glad to see they were having
huevos rancheros this morning. When Victoria had first started to cook for the
family, Blue couldn't stomach the southwestern cuisine - too darn hot! He had
come to love it, however, and now he couldn't get enough of it. When Victoria
had finished, Blue jumped up to pull out his stepmother's chair for her and the
whole family sat down to breakfast. Blue couldn't help but notice that the
chair to his right and the chair across the table were both empty. He glanced
over at his father out of the corner of his eye and noticed John's grim
expression. He didn't envy his Uncle Buck and Manolito one bit when they
finally did make their way to the breakfast table.
"Where the heck are those two?" growled John. "The day's half over!"
"Maybe they were both a little late gettin' back from Tucson last night?"
ventured Blue.
'I know they were late getting back last night!" said John, menacingly.
"Ooh, boy!" thought Blue to himself. "I'm glad I didn't decide to go with those
two last night. I don't need Pa mad at me, too!" Buck and Manolito had gone
into Tucson last night to have a little fun and had asked Blue to come with
them. Blue had been sorely tempted, but he knew he and Pa had a busy day ahead
of them and that he'd better be alert.
Halfway through breakfast, Buck stumbled to the table, followed closely by
Manolito. By the looks of the two of them, Blue guessed that it must have been
some night! He sat still in his chair and waited for the fireworks to begin.
He didn't have to wait long.
"Nice of you 'boys' to grace us with your presence this morning," snapped John,
sarcastically.
"Oh, think nothing of it, Big John," chuckled Mano who refused to take anything
seriously.
"Don't have a conniption fit, John," said Buck. "We're just a little late
gettin' to breakfast. Now I know this is hard for you to grasp, but a person
needs to have a little fun every now and then."
"You can have all the 'fun' you want to on your own time, but when it interferes
with my time, I got every right to call you on it," snapped John.
"Now looky here, Brother John..." began Buck, but he was interrupted by
Victoria. "Mano, you and Buck had better eat before the food gets cold," and
with a look, she silenced her husband.
"Good old Victoria," thought Blue, relieved. "Once again she plays peacemaker."
Except for grumbling under his breath, John said no more and the argument ended.
A few minutes later, John asked, "You 'bout ready, Boy? We have a lot of work
ahead of us."
"Uh yeah, Pa," answered Blue. They were riding over to the new neighbors to the
northwest. He hadn't yet met the Nichols, but their spread, 'Nichols Worth" was
nearly as big as the High Chaparral. John was going over there to talk to
Joshua Nichols about purchasing his prize bull to breed with Cannon stock. Blue
was going along with his father because John felt it was high time his son
learned everything about the ranching business, and that meant dickering over
cattle prices, fighting with ledgers and payrolls, and all that other paperwork.
Now Blue enjoyed the physical part of ranching and being out in the fresh air
and all. He was not looking forward to the business end of it though! All
those figures, he hated ciphering anyway! When Blue was a boy in school, he
certainly wasn't a poor student, but he was no honor student either. He was
aware that he could have done a lot better and, unfortunately, so did both his
parents. He couldn't begin to count the number of times his pa had sat him down
and lectured him to 'buckle down.' He always promised to do better and, for a
while, he did. But then he slipped into his old habits - looking out the window
and daydreaming. He couldn't remember how many times Old Lady Parsons kept him
in at recess and made him write over and over on the blackboard, "I will pay
attention in class." Blue had hated being cooped up in the schoolhouse; he
wanted to be outside. He had begged his father to let him quit school and go to
work when he was fourteen, but John would have none of that - an education was
too important! So, Blue stayed in school and graduated at the age of 16. In
hindsight, he was glad he had but at the time he was furious with Pa. In fact,
for a whole week, he didn't speak to his father unless spoken to first.
Thinking again of all the paperwork involved, Blue involuntarily rolled his blue
eyes heavenward. John didn't catch it because Blue was leaning on his left hand
and John couldn't see his face. The remaining family members didn't fail to
notice his reaction, however. Not thinking, Blue let a sigh escape his lips.
John, alert as ever, said, "What's the matter, Boy? You not up to this, maybe?"
"Huh? No, Pa, it's not that...it's nothing."
"Well, we better get goin', the day ain't gettin' any younger," grumbled John.
He strode over to the side table and picked up his gun belt and strapped it on.
Then he reached for his hat hanging by the peg by the door and clapped it on his
head. Blue, close on his heels, followed suit. Together, father and son
stepped out the front door and onto the front porch. They walked down to the
corral, saddled their horses and headed towards the Nichols ranch.
As John and Blue rode northwest, the sun was beginning to rise over to their
right. All was silent; Blue wasn't about to open his mouth. In the mood Pa was
in, why one little word from Blue could set him off! If Pa wanted to talk, let
him start the conversation; Blue was taking no chances. Apparently, John wasn't
so inclined and the two rode on in silence.
Just as the sun was climbing in the sky, Blue got his first look at the Nichols
ranch house. It wasn't your typical southwestern style like their house, but
was an enormous two-story white clapboard house with a big, railed wraparound
porch. It looked as if a twister had snatched it up out of the Midwest and
deposited it here, smack dab in the middle of the desert. It reminded Blue of
the houses of his youth, back in Missouri. Even though it looked so out of
place, Blue couldn't help but think that it looked real homey.
John and Blue rode through the front gate and tied their horses up to the rail,
under the overhang of the porch. Blue heard a hearty voice and turned to see
Josh Nichols advancing upon them. He was a pleasant looking man, about 50 years
of age, with a ruddy complexion and stood nearly as tall as Big John. "John,"
he exclaimed, "Good to see you; ready to do business?"
"If the price is right," exclaimed John.
"Well, well, who's this?" smiled Josh questioningly at Blue.
"This is my boy, William, but he goes by 'Blue.' Figured it was high time he
learned the business side of ranching." said John.
"Well, good to meet ya, Kid!" said Mr. Nichols, vigorously pumping Blue's hand
up and down.
"Same here, Sir," replied Blue.
As Josh and John turned towards the pen where the bull was kept, Blue lagged a
step behind. "Boy? Kid?" Geez, he felt just like a little six-year-old still
tied to Mama's apron strings. If he could only do the dickering, maybe he could
show these old men a thing or two. Blue knew that wasn't gonna happen today,
however. Pa's job would be to do all the talking and Blue's job would be to
listen, learn, and keep his mouth shut. He sighed and walked over to join his
father and Mr. Nichols at the fence.
John and Josh began to discuss the merits and the bloodline of the bull before
getting down to the price. Blue leaned his elbows on the top of the fence and
his eyes strayed to the mountains in the distance. When Pa had decided to move
his family west, Blue had not been crazy about the idea - to put it mildly. Now
he wondered why he had balked. The desert was so beautiful, especially in the
spring when the saguaro and the prickly pear cacti bloomed. And the mountains,
he never got tired of looking at them. The Midwest was nice, but Blue knew he
could never abide the flat land again. Blue was unaware that his attention had
wandered until he felt the rap of knuckles on the back of his head - not hard,
but hard enough to get his attention. Blue whirled around and found himself
face-to-face with an irate father. John lowered his head, pursed his lips,
frowned at Blue and shook his head imperceptibly at his son. "Oh, great,"
thought Blue. "That didn't take long! Now Pa's mad at me." Pa couldn't abide
daydreaming; he considered it a big waste of time. John turned back to the
business at hand and Blue tried to get interested once again. "Man, it was
gonna be another hot day!" though Blue. He began to blink his eyes and tried to
stifle a yawn. His eyes strayed again to the mountains. Bet it was cooler up
there. In fact, Blue wished he was up there right now, trying out his new rifle
and tracking that mountain lion spotted on Cannon land a few days back.
John was about to reprimand his son more strenuously this time when both men
were distracted by the sound of a feminine voice at their backs. Blue turned
around to see a pretty young woman of about 18 or 19, with long auburn hair and
striking green eyes. "Papa," she said to Mr. Nichols. "Ma's havin' fits. She
said that you've been keeping our guests out standin' in the hot sun too long.
She says they must be about parched and probably thinkin' we're inhospitable.
She wants them to come in for refreshments."
"Okay, honey, okay," laughed Mr. Nichols. "Wouldn't do to make your ma mad!"
He continued on, "John Cannon, this is my daughter, Annabelle."
"Pleased to meet you, Sir," curtsied Annabelle, prettily. John touched the brim
of his hat. "It's my pleasure, Miss Nichols," he said.
"And, this is Mr. Cannon's son, Blue," said Josh.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am," exclaimed Blue, whipping off his hat and
nearly strangling himself with his hat strings. Out of the corner of his eye,
John observed his son. For all of Blue's protestations that he was no good with
figures, he couldn't help but notice that his son had no problems with the
female figure. In spite of himself, John had to chuckle.
"Sweetheart," said Josh to his daughter. "Mr. Cannon and I are near finished
here. Why don't you take the young man up to the house and offer him some
lemonade. His pa and I will be along directly."
"Okay, Pa," said Annabelle, with a glance at Blue. Together she and Blue walked
towards the house. Annabelle smiled at Blue and said, "Blue? Your name is
Blue?"
"Well, my real name is William, but I'm never called that unless I'm in serious
trouble. Everybody just calls me Blue," he said, smiling at her. "Annabelle,
that's a real pretty name."
"Oh, Papa's just puttin' on airs. People call me Annie or Belle, take your
pick."
Blue thought a minute, "I think Belle is real pretty. Can I call you Belle?"
"Sure you can, if you like," replied the girl, smiling back at him. Together
they walked up onto the porch and stopped outside the front door. "Ma's beside
herself with curiosity to meet you and your pa. We don't get much company. She
hopes your ma can visit soon."
"Well, my ma's dead, but my stepmother, Victoria, will be glad to visit,"
explained Blue.
"Oh, I'm sorry," said Belle. "Was she sick?"
"No, she was killed by the Apaches," said Blue, bitterly.
"Oh, I'm sorry," said Belle, eyes filling sympathetically with tears. "How
awful for you!"
Blue, at a loss for words, simply shrugged. Trying to steer the conversation
away from the sensitive subject, Belle walked over to the corner of the porch,
wrapped her arms around the corner column, and laid her cheek against it. She
gazed over at the mountains and said, "Oh, don't you just love the mountains? I
never get tired of looking at them!"
"Yeah, me too," agreed Blue, then asked, "How long you been in Arizona
Territory, Belle?"
"Oh, six months now," she said. "I wasn't too happy leaving Iowa, but now I
love it here!"
"You're from Iowa? Well, we were practically neighbors. I'm from Missouri,"
said Blue.
"Really? How long have you lived here, Blue?"
"Oh, a little over a year now," said Blue. Just then the two young people were
interrupted by a voice coming from inside the house. "Annie, you're near as bad
as your pa. Bring the boy in here so I can meet him!"
"Okay, Ma, okay," laughed Belle. Blue opened the door for her and she led him
into the parlor.
"Here," she said. "Have a seat and I'll bring you some lemonade." She pointed
to a settee and vanished into the kitchen. Blue sat down on the settee. 'Lord,
it was horsehair - slippery old stuff!' He vastly preferred the leather
upholstered furniture of his home. He firmly planted his feet on the floor to
prevent sliding off the sofa and onto the floor. He looked around him. The
Nichols' parlor was certainly impressive! There was both velvet and horsehair
upholstered furniture. The walls were papered with cabbage roses and there was
even a pump organ in the corner. Blue tried to remember every last detail for
Victoria as she was sure to quiz him later. Glancing to his right, he spied a
picture of a pretty young girl of about 10 years of age in an ornate gilded
frame. "Why this must be Belle as a little girl," he thought, picking up the
picture. He was distracted by a voice.
"Well hello, young man. It's nice to finally meet you. I'm Emma Nichols,
Annie's ma." Blue sat the picture down and, smiling, looked up. His blue eyes
opened wide, his face went pale, and he gasped. Much to Annie and her mother's
surprise, he tumbled off the couch and onto the floor at their feet. Annie
shrieked and dropped the tray with the glasses of lemonade. She was bending
over Blue when her mother grabbed her and pushed her towards the door. "Hurry,
Annie, hurry!" she cried. "Run, get his pa!"
John and Josh were just about to conclude their business when John looked up to
see the Nichols girl run out of the house, shrieking like a banshee. "Oh, Mr.
Cannon!" she cried, breathlessly. "It's your boy...he fainted!" John's mouth
opened in surprise, what had happened in that house anyway? Together the three
of them raced up the steps and into the parlor. John spotted his son lying on
the floor and paler than he had ever seen him.
"Let's get him on the sofa," said Josh, taking Blue's feet while John grasped
his son under the arms. Together the two men lifted him up on the sofa. John
bent over, loosened Blue's bandana, and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt.
He accepted a wet cloth from Annie and placed it on Blue's forehead. He was
wondering just what happened when a woman's voice asked, "Has your son been ill,
Mr. Cannon?"
"No, ma'am. He's as healthy as a horse," replied John, puzzled. He then turned
to face Mrs. Nichols. What he saw made him light-headed. Emma Nichols was a
near twin to Blue's mother, Annalee. The only thing that prevented him from
collapsing onto the sofa was the fact that he would have landed squarely on top
of his son!
"What's the matter, John?" asked Josh. "You look kinda green around the gills!"
But before he could answer, he was distracted by a moan from Blue. He bent over
his son. Blue was about to come around, he could tell. The boy's eyelids were
fluttering and he was moving his lips.
Blue felt like he was fighting his way up from under water. It was like the
time he got swept up in the wash and nearly drowned. He heard voices a long way
off. He laid on the sofa and John saw him frown. Blue had come to, but he
didn't want to open his eyes. He couldn't remember why, though. Cautiously, he
opened his eyes to find his father bending over him, a look of concern on his
face.
"Pa," he said weakly. "What happened?"
"You passed out, Boy," answered his father. "Passed out?" thought Blue. "How
humiliating, swooning like an old lady with the vapors!" He slowly sat up and
gingerly rubbed his head where he had bumped it during his tumble to the floor.
"What happened?" asked Blue, again. He then spied Mrs. Nichols and everything
came rushing back at him. He blanched and opened his blue eyes wide as saucers.
He pulled at his father's sleeve and when John bent down, he whispered
frantically in John's ear. "Pa, I gotta get outta here or I'm gonna be sick!"
John said nothing, merely nodded at his son. Blue bounded off the sofa and
rushed out the front door like the very hounds of Hell were nipping at his boot
heels, leaving his father to make the explanations. John turned to face three
very bewildered people. "Excuse me, please," he said. "I need to see to my son
and then I'll be back to explain things to you." With that, he followed Blue
out to the yard.
Blue was leaning against Soapy's neck, his head buried in his arms. John went
up to him and placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "Are you gonna be all right,
Boy?" he asked. Blue nodded, without raising his head.
"Pa," he said, desperately. "I want to go home; I don't feel well..."
John said, "Go on home, Boy. I'll be along directly." Blue leapt up on Soapy
and wheeled for the front gate. John watched his son head toward the High
Chaparral at a breakneck pace with a look of concern on his face. With a heavy
heart, he turned towards the house to make a difficult explanation to the three
people inside, who were anxiously awaiting his return.
When Blue rode up to the High Chaparral, he jumped down from Soapy and threw the
reins to a hand without explanation. The man was about to greet the young
senor, but with one look at Blue, he wisely kept silent.
Buck, standing in the yard, spied his approaching nephew. His face lit up at
the sight of him, and a million questions concerning the Nichols sprang to his
lips. His smile faded and the questions were forgotten as Blue pushed
wordlessly past his uncle. Buck could tell Blue was upset about something, but
he couldn't catch a glimpse of his face. Blue had pulled his hat brim low to
hide his expression. Buck watched him disappear into the house and his mouth
fell open. He pushed his hat off his head and scratched his head in puzzlement.
About a half an hour later, John rode through the gate. He didn't hand off the
reins but decided to take care of his horse himself so he could be alone
to think. He didn't get the chance, though. He was just taking the saddle off
his horse, Billy, when he looked up to see his brother glaring at him. "What
did you say to Blue?" asked Buck, angrily. "He went rushing into the house and
I've never seen him so upset. I think he was crying, but he didn't let me see
his face."
"I didn't do anything to him," retorted John. "You know, I'm not the monster
everyone believes me to be...Hey, wait a minute! Why am I explaining myself to
you? You just try having a son and then you come to me and tell me how easy it
being a parent!"
"Ya know, Big John...I used to regret not having a son of my own. But now I
know that being an uncle is much better. I can enjoy your boy without forever
worrying about whether or not he's doing the right thing," drawled Buck.
"If I'm tough on him, it's only because I want what's best for him!" snapped
John. He paused and then said, "Buck, I just don't have the stomach for
quarreling with you, not now. You're never going to believe what happened over
at the Nichols' place today!" He looked at Buck, who said nothing, only raised
his eyebrows questioningly at his elder brother. John continued on tiredly,
"Oh, Buck. Emma Nichols could almost be Annalee's twin."
Buck's mouth dropped open and his eyes widened in shock. "You don't mean it?"
he gasped. "Then that's why Blue Boy was so upset!"
John nodded, "It was a terrible shock for him. When Billy saw her, he fainted
dead away." In his grief, he used his son's childhood name instead of his
nickname.
Buck nodded sympathetically. "I'm sorry that it happened, but maybe it's just
what Blue needed!"
"How can you say that?" questioned John, heatedly.
"Big John, you're a pretty smart man, but you ain't too bright when it comes to
your only son. Haven't you noticed the change in him since his mama died. He's
not the same boy; the life has gone out of him. Didn't you think it kinda
strange that he never shed a tear when Annalee died?"
John blinked, taken by surprise. "Well, I guess you're right; I just didn't
think about it."
"No, you didn't think, and I couldn't point it out to you. You get so prickly
when you think I'm tryin' to tell you how to raise your son...And, how was Blue
supposed to act, anyway? You didn't shed a tear, either, when your wife died,"
said Buck.
"I did my crying in private!" snapped John.
"Well, you certainly kept that a secret! Do you suppose Blue knew that?"
"No, I don't suppose that he did. I didn't think he needed to deal with my
falling apart on top of his mother's death," explained John, wearily.
"Maybe he should have seen you shed a tear or two. Then maybe he'd a felt he
could let go, too. You know that boy knocks himself out to please you, forever
trying to be like you."
John simply stared tiredly at his younger brother. "And, while I'm at it,
there's something else that always bothered me. When we buried Annalee, Blue
came to you for comfort and you turned your back on him and walked away. Why,
John, why?" questioned Buck.
John was quiet for a second or two. "I know I let Blue down that day, Buck.
The truth is, I couldn't look at him. My grief was too raw and looking at Blue
is like looking at Annalee. He favors his mother so much..." John sighed, and
done with the business at hand, he said nothing more and simply walked up to the
house with a heavy heart and shoulders drooping. Buck watched him go and shook
his head sadly.
John had barely gotten three feet inside the front door when Victoria attacked.
"What did you say to Blue? He came rushing in here a while ago and raced up to
his room. He probably wouldn't want you to know this, but I think he's up there
crying!"
John glanced up the stairs. "Not you, too?" he said, and continued on. "Oh,
Victoria...it's nothing that I did. It's..." He paused and looked at Victoria.
How could he tell her about Emma Nichols looking so much like his first wife?
He knew he would have to, but first he would need to choose his words very
carefully. "Victoria," he said, taking her by the arm. "I have to tell you
something, but it will have to wait. Can you trust me on this?"
Victoria looked up at her husband, her beautiful big brown eyes, questioning,
but full of trust. "Of course, my husband," she said, nodding. Sighing, John
turned away and headed for the stairs. "First, though, I need to talk to my
son." With a heavy heart, he slowly made his way up the stairs, praying that he
would pick the right words to say to Blue.
He paused outside Blue's door and hesitated before knocking. He could hear
muffled sobs inside. Drawing a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and
knocked on the door. "Blue," he said. "It's me, I'd like to talk to you."
Suddenly, the sobs were cut off and he heard the creaking of bedsprings as Blue
jumped off the bed. "C...come in," said Blue, in a muffled voice.
John entered the room to see Blue sitting on the other side of the bed, back to his
father. He didn't look up at John, but said, "Pa, I really don't feel much like
talking now...I, I don't feel too good."
John stared at his son's back and said, "No, Blue. We need to talk now. I need
to say some things. You don't have to look at me, but at least
listen...please?"
Blue nodded and waited for his father to begin. When the words weren't
forthcoming, Blue wanted to look around at his father, but he didn't dare. His
throat ached with unshed tears, but he didn't want to let his father see his
face. He knew how John felt about tears; they were 'unmanly.'
John began. "I know it was a terrible shock for you today, seeing Mrs. Nichols.
You shouldn't be ashamed for fainting, though, because when I first saw her, I
nearly passed out, too! For just a second, I thought she was your mother...I
was talking to your uncle just now and he pointed out something to me that I'd
been blind to. You've changed since your mother died. You don't laugh as much,
and you hardly ever smile. What I thought was maturity, I now see as grief
buried too deep. With that grief, you've also buried all other human emotions.
As much as I would like you to be more like me, that is one characteristic of
mine that I don't want for you." John sighed and continued on. "You see, when
your grandfather left us, I had to grow up pretty fast. I had to be the man of
the family. I had to be strong for your grandmother and for your Uncle Buck.
As a result, I have difficulty expressing my feelings. But, make no mistake
about this, I truly loved your mother. I tried to show her just how much each
and every day of our life together. To me, actions have always spoken louder
than words. But try as I might, I cannot remember ever telling your mother that
I loved her in so many words. I regret that. I think she knew it, but still it
probably would have been nice for her to hear the words. Seeing Mrs. Nichols
today makes me believe I've been given a second chance not to make the same
mistake with you. So, I want you to know...I love you, Son."
Blue looked up in surprise at his father's words. At long last, the dam inside
him burst and he buried his head in his hands and wept. He sensed, rather than
saw, his father cross over to the side of the bed and sit down beside him. John
said nothing, simply put an arm around his shoulder and sat with him. After
about a minute or so, Blue pulled himself together. John then leaned down and
asked him, "Are you going to be all right now?" Still overcome with emotion,
Blue simply nodded. John stroked the back of his son's head once, rose and
began to make his way out of the room. Blue stopped him by saying..."Pa?"
John stopped and waited for Blue to go on. "God, how could three little words
be so hard to say?" thought Blue. Maybe he was more like Pa than he knew. He
began again, "Pa, I...love you, too," he said. He then lifted his head and
looked at his father for the first time, shyly. John seeing his son's
tear-streaked face, smiled and said, "I know, but all the same, it's nice to
hear." And with that, he closed the door softly behind him.
Blue sat on the bed and collected his thoughts. He got up and crossed over to
his bureau. He opened the top drawer, reached in and removed the picture of his
mother that he had placed there, face down, over a year ago on that terrible
night.
He crossed back to the stand beside his bed. Blue looked at his mother's face
and smiled. "Ma," he said. "I think we're all gonna be okay now, after all."
And, with that, he placed his mother's picture on the stand and began life anew.
THE END