The Haircut
Or,
A Day in Town
by BeckyS
This story is written for pleasure, not profit.
The Cartwrights and the general circumstances belong to Bonanza Ventures.
Otherwise, © as allowable, May 2004



It had all started so simply. His father had made such an ordinary request that morning. It shouldn't have been any problem. It shouldn't have turned into a disaster. Adam sighed as he jammed his hat down a little more firmly on his head, slung his packed saddlebags over his shoulder and picked up his bedroll. He looked around his room one more time, memories almost overcoming him, almost making him change his mind. It was hard to go, but he couldn't stay, couldn't bear to see the expression on his father's face—

But the clearest memory of all was how it had all begun. Pa has only himself to blame . . .



It was that time again, and it looked like it was his turn. Adam Cartwright dropped his face into his hands with a soft moan, thereby blocking his view of his father at the other end of the breakfast table. "Does it have to be today?" he muttered. Does it have to be me? he thought. "There's the south range that has to be checked now that all those settlers are going along the Placerville road, and we need to lay in some meat to smoke for the winter, and what about that pasture near Spooner Lake that you wanted checked on—"

"Adam," his father spoke firmly, "you're twenty-two; you're a grown man, now."

True.

"He's just a boy."

Also true.

"It's just a haircut."

"Just?" He glowered at his father from under thunderous black brows. "Then you won't mind taking him."

Ben's gaze never wavered. "I have other work to do." He thought for a moment. "Here. At home."

"Right." Adam sat up, leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his thick raven locks. "What about Hoss?"

"Hoss is busy today." Ben rose, and his voice took on a chiding tone. "I can't believe you're making such a fuss over a little errand. You've been begging for a chance to go into town; now you have it. All you have to do is get Little Joe's hair cut."

"Pa, the last time I took him that mule stampeded right through Mr. Miller's store. Remember, you said it was the most expensive haircut anyone in the territory had ever had."

Ben looked at him askance. "Little Joe's hair had nothing to do with that poorly trained animal."

"You weren't there," Adam stated baldly. "And the time before that, somehow the jail mysteriously caught fire."

"You know the sheriff decided that was a cigar butt someone hadn't put out properly."

Adam didn't bother to answer, just carefully inspected his spoon.

Ben finally exploded. "All right, I know he's a handful. But surely you can outsmart him . . ."

Adam raised a quizzical eyebrow.

Ben slumped. "Just . . . do your best."



What was it about Joe and haircuts?
Adam wondered as he drove the small buckboard along the trail, the boy seated next to him. No other kid in town — heck, no kid he'd ever heard of — had an aversion to being barbered like his youngest brother. He'd always been a little wiggle-worm, but Adam had found when he'd returned from college this past summer that Joe would rather clean the stalls, the pig-pen and the outhouse than sit in a barber chair for five minutes while someone clipped his curls.

He glanced sideways at the youngster who was chattering happily with no clue of the torture his older brother would inflict on him later today.

Adam removed his hat and wiped his forehead with his sleeve, then resettled the hat more firmly on his head. He ran his fingers thoughtfully over his chin and considered getting a shave. He didn't really need one, but maybe if Joe thought that was the reason they were going to the barber, maybe if he saw how relaxing Adam found the experience, maybe if he could convince Joe to just slide onto the chair . . . He sighed. Maybe he'd have better luck convincing Hoss to give up his dinner.

It was worth a try, though. Ben had come up with a list of errands for them to run, including a stop at the mercantile for a new jacket for Joe, so he wouldn't be suspicious.

"Hey, Joe," he interrupted the steady flow of his brother's one-sided conversation.

Joe looked up at him and removed his child-sized hat, wiped his forehead, and resettled his hat in perfect imitation of his older brother.

Adam groaned silently. Why was it every time they had a good day together something would have to ruin it? "I want to get a shave while we're in town."

Joe reached a small hand up to run his fingers lightly over his brother's jaw. "Does a beard grow that fast, Adam? I thought you already shaved this morning."

Adam's face dimpled in a smile. "I did. But sometimes it's nice to have someone else do it for you." His eyes got dreamy. "Nice hot towels, thick shaving cream, you just lie back in the chair and relax . . ."

Joe snorted. "Sounds boring to me."

"Nope," Adam disagreed happily. "It's a little piece of heaven."

In spite of himself, Joe looked intrigued. Adam decided to try sinking the hook in a bit deeper.

"Of course, you're too little to appreciate—"

"Hey!" was the predictable response. "Who says I'm too little?"

Adam flicked his own finger over Joe's child-soft cheek. "I don't know. There might be a little fuzz there . . ."

Joe swiped his brother's hand away and looked at him suspiciously.

"Nah, not enough to make it worthwhile," Adam finished.

"There is, too!" argued Joe, rubbing his cheek.

"Nope, I'm going to enjoy this on my own."

Joe grumbled under his breath while Adam congratulated himself. He'd given Joe something to occupy his mind — something to try to talk his brother into. He breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully it would keep him from coming up with any other trouble.


Deciding to make a day of it, Adam headed for the livery stable. He arranged with Tom Wilson for the care of their horses, then looked around for his little brother. He found him leaning over the edge of Wilson's water tank, on the verge of falling in.

"That's for the stock," Adam commented as he grabbed his brother's belt just in time and swung him to the ground. "I don't think they'd appreciate the taste of Joe-flavored water."

Joe laughed. "Hey, Adam, you're almost as strong as Hoss."

"Nobody's as strong as Hoss," he smiled. Even at fifteen, his middle brother could outwork anyone on the Ponderosa. He shook his head. Coming back home from four years at college had been an adjustment in more ways than he'd expected. "Let's go get some of this boring stuff done for Pa, then we'll stop by Sam's bakery."

Joe's eyes grew wide. "Really? Can I have one of those chocolate cake things he makes?"

"Ladyfingers," Adam told him. "Why do you think I chose it?" he asked.

Joe grabbed his brother's arm and started dragging him out of the livery. "C'mon, then, where first?"

"General Store, Post office, feed store, then the lawyer's—"

Joe groaned, then manfully took a deep breath. "I can do it, if it means going to Sam's."

"Attaboy." Adam clapped him on the back. "Just keep thinking about the ladyfingers."

They walked side by side down the street, Joe deep in thought. "Why'd they call 'em that?"

"Why do you think?"

"Well, they're long like fingers, but they're fat and they have chocolate on their ends. I don't know no ladies with fingers like that. Except maybe Mrs. Lewis," he said thoughtfully.

Adam manfully choked back a laugh at the thought of the big prissy woman who ran the dress shop dipping her fingers in chocolate. It really wouldn't do to encourage Joe — uh-oh, too late. Joe had started with that infectious giggle of his and it would take a stronger man than he to resist. The two Cartwrights walked side by side to Gordon's General Store, for once in perfect harmony.


They dropped their shopping list off with Mr. Gordon for later pickup and then retrieved the mail for the ranch, and Adam only had to grab Joe by the collar twice — once to keep him from getting run down by the stage that was coming through on its morning run and the second time when he and the son of another rancher in town for the day almost tipped over a stack of paint tins as they played bank robbers.

Adam let him carry the packet of letters as they headed over to the feed store. He placed their order for some special grain he and Hoss had talked their father into trying on the horses and arranged to come back and pick it up later that week when it arrived from Sacramento. He then rescued the pile of mail from a barrel of seed where Joe had dumped it when he saw some brand new puppies trying to escape from the storeroom.

Their first conflict of the day began when Joe asked to stay with the puppies while Adam went to the lawyer's office.

"But, Adam, I'll be fine here. I can stay out of the way, and as soon as you're finished you just come back and get me." It seemed perfectly reasonable to him.

Just about any other child, and it would be a reasonable request. Even a good idea. But Adam knew all too well that although Joe had a heart of gold, no one could get into trouble faster and with such good intentions as his little brother.

"Nope, you just come along and be quiet, and I'll finish as fast as I can." He tried to herd Joe out the door, but Joe slipped under his arm and ran back to the storeroom. "Joe!" Adam called. "Get back here."

"Just a minute, I have to make sure they're all in their box."

Adam leaned against the doorframe, trying not to tap his foot. "Now, Joe."

"Oh, all right." He dragged over to his brother. "But I don't see why I can't—"

Adam gave him a friendly swat and guided him out the door. "Because we're staying together today, little brother. Just the two of us."

Joe perked up. "That's right. Just the two of us." And he held himself as tall as he could and stretched his legs to try to match his brother's long stride.