In "The Fugitive", we're told Carl Reagan's mother died when he was about 16. In this story, she is still alive; I have taken creative license.
The Leaves
"Don't bite the seeds, they're bitter," Adam warned his youngest brother. All three of them sat on the front porch, the crisp, biting fall wind ruffling their hair like a rough caress.
"How d'you eat them then?" Little Joe asked as he held one of the plump grapes, his small fingers barely peeking out from under the cuff of the thrice rolled sleeves of the hand-me-down jacket. He had just spat a seed out, having crushed one between his teeth and grimaced at the bitterness on his tongue. Hoss had laughed at Joe's expression and then popped another one in his mouth.
"You know how you eat around a cherry stone?" Adam asked. Joe nodded. "Well, you do the same with a grape, kind of work it around with your tongue and then spit out the seeds. Or you can bite off just a little and pick out the seeds but with all that dirt under your fingernails…" Adam shrugged and went back to eating.
"Adam," Joe asked, "think if we planted these seeds we could grow grapes like Mr. Edwards does?"
"I don't know. Maybe with all the seeds Hoss's been spittin' out, we'll have a whole vineyard in the front yard." Adam winked at Hoss.
"Yeah, Joe, an' then you can eat grapes all year 'round!"
"I'm gonna save mine," Joe said, slipping a few seeds into the jacket pocket. "When you get back home, Adam, we'll have bunches of grapes!"
Silence fell among the three brothers as they ate but Hoss noticed that Adam had stopped eating and was rolling one of the purple globes between his fingers, staring at nothing.
"Hey, Adam…you scared of leavin' to school?" Hoss quietly asked. Little Joe stared at his two brothers; there seemed to be something between them he didn't understand.
"What?" Adam swung his head about. "Why would I be scared?" Adam grinned but his eyes didn't match his mouth.
" 'Cause it's so far away."
"No, I'm not scared. Lookin' forward to getting' away from you two." Adam tossed the uneaten grape across the yard and noticed a swirl of wind picking up a bunch of fallen leaves and moving them in a small circle; he felt like one of those leaves, being moved about by some outside force and having no control. Despite what Adam had said, he wasn't merely scared-he was terrified. But he couldn't tell his brothers about waking up sweating in the middle of the night, his heart thumping wildly from a faceless, nameless dread. He would bolt out of his bed as if the bed itself was the source of the fear, and pace his room until his breathing calmed. Then, for a few hours, he would either lie awake, worrying, or try to read. Sometimes he dozed off for a few hours but only yesterday, Hop Sing had asked about his health, how he felt and did he need dosing with castor oil? Adam laughed it off, declining the "dosing" but he himself had noticed the dark circles in his reflected image and the tenseness in his neck and shoulder muscles that constantly accompanied him, always threatening to bloom into a crushing headache.
"I don't want any more," Adam said, brushing away a few flies that had gathered, attracted by the sticky sweetness of the juice that smeared Little Joe's chin and mouth. "Hoss, make sure Joe washes his face before he comes in."
"Sure, Adam." Hoss watched as his brother went into the house.
The smell of roasting chicken floated out from the kitchen. Hop Sing was making his favorite dinner as tomorrow afternoon, Adam would be on a stage whose line would take him to Kansas City, Missouri where he would board a train that took him the rest of the way east with only one change in Philadelphia.
Adam had spent the last few nights considering all the things that could go wrong-stage robbers, missed trains and then the fear of what would lie in wait for him at his destination. That thought alone made his heart pound with fear. But it wasn't too late to change his mind. Not yet. But dare he?
Adam listened for his father's voice. If he were in the kitchen with Hop Sing, he would hear them both but it was quiet, the only thing drifting from the kitchen being the savory smells of dinner. Adam took to the stairs and, as he suspected, his father was in his bedroom looking through the battered leather portmanteau that was accompanying Adam east. Ben was going through it, checking and rechecking the folded clothes. An open Gladstone bag sat next to it on the bed.
"Pa?"
"Oh, Adam…" Ben stood up.
"What's goin' on? Hop Sing and I packed it all this morning. You disturb his folding and he'll poison your coffee at dinner."
Ben Cartwright chuckled. "I was counting; we should have bought more shirts and at least one more pair of dress pants. You know you have to wear a jacket, shirt and tie every day. I hope that overcoat is warm enough. And you have new long underwear… Keep your gloves with you-it'll be colder there. And remember, I wired money ahead and you have a place to stay so there's that. But…keep your boots polished and others won't notice they're not shoes. Buy a pair of dress shoes once you see what the other students wear…"
"Pa, I have everything I need and we've gone over this at least a hundred times. Now…this evening I'm going out with the Bonners and Carl."
Ben stood up straight; he now had a new issue of concern. "Are you telling me or are you asking me?"
"I'm 17; I think I can make those decisions myself."
"Think again. You're still living under my roof and you're still my child. I say who goes where and when. You'll stay home with your family since this is your last night home for quite a while."
"Pa, this is also my last night with my friends. They've planned something for me, a goodbye of sorts. I want to go out."
"You want to go run with them like a pack of wild dogs. I've never approved of any of them – undereducated, rowdy and rough. You're better than them. The fact that you're going back east to university is proof of that."
"All it's proof of, Pa, is that I have other interests than they do; it doesn't mean I'm any better and that I don't like to have fun. I mean I won't see them for a long time and…Pa, I really want to go." Adam paused and then altered his request. "May I go out with my friends tonight?"
"Adam…" Ben considered. Once Adam boarded the stage, he was on his own. But was he ready? The thought that he wouldn't be able to protect his eldest cut through Ben like a sharp knife. That fear was always in the back of his mind, crouching, waiting until the chance to pounce and rattle his peace of mind. But Adam was a capable young man, trustworthy and honest, that Ben knew. But he also knew about pack mentality and how a man can abandon everything he knows is right or wrong and go along with others.
"Come with me, Adam" Ben walked out of Adam's bedroom and into his, Adam trailing. He reached for the silver pocket watch and fob that sat on his dresser. "I was going to wait until we were in the station but I want you to have it now, Here." Ben held out the watch.
"But, Pa…" Adam took it, examining the silver case with a patina resulting from the many times fingers and hands held it. He had seen his father look at it innumerable times growing up. It had been handed down from his father's father, and now to him. "You sure you want me to have this? I mean…"
"Yes, I'm sure. Mainly because you need to be home by 10 tonight. Not a minute later. I'll be waiting up. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
"10? That's a little early, isn't it? It's my last night here and I can sleep a little later tomorrow…" Adam paused. His father said nothing, just looked steadily at him. "Okay, Pa, I'll be home by 10."
"Just make sure you are."
Despite the fact that Adam barely tasted his favorite dinner of roast chicken, the last of the fresh peas, buttery potatoes and hot, crusty bread, his father wouldn't dismiss him from the table.
"Adam," his father said patiently, "Joe and I haven't finished. You can wait a little longer."
"But, Pa…Joe's just playing with his food. We'll be here all night if we wait on him."
"Uh-uh," Joe said. "I ain't playin' with my food, am I, Pa. I'm eatin' fast as I can and you can't go 'til I'm finished."
"You gonna let me be controlled by a 5 year old's whim?" Adam asked his father.
"Now, Adam…" But Ben was interrupted by Hoss volunteering to finish up Little Joe's uneaten chicken which the child had been shredding with the tines of his fork. He had also been using the flat side of his fork as a foot and walking over the peas, smashing them and they were now a green paste on the plate.
"Hoss, save your appetite and Joe, if you're through, stop playing with your food."
"But, Pa, I ain't through…" Joe whined.
"Yes, you are."
"Then I can go." Adam balled up his napkin, ready to leave it beside his plate.
"Not just yet."
"What do I have to sit through now?" Adam was angry. His father knew he wanted to go and seemed to be playing some cruel power game. He was tired of being told over and over that he was the son and under the roof, the rules were his father's. As if he wasn't anxious enough about leaving tomorrow, his father was only making things worse. Adam felt hot tears of frustration behind his eyes.
"We're ready, Hop Sing!" Ben smiled as Hop Sing, grinning widely, came out of the kitchen with a large, earthenware casserole, the smell of peach cobbler filling the room.
Hop Sing put the dish in front of Adam. "Mistah Adam's favorite dessert on last night home for long time." Hop Sing stood smiling.
"Dang," Hoss chimed in, "that's my favorite dessert too. We got any cream?"
"Hop Sing get cream," and he headed back to the kitchen.
"Hoss, get the plates and dessert forks. Then we'll let Adam dish out the cobbler."
"Dish me up a lot," Hoss said, rising from his chair. "And pour lots of cream on it."
"Me too, Adam," Joe said. "Lots and lots, more'n even Hoss!"
Once dessert was eaten, Ben reluctantly let Adam leave over Hoss's protestations.
"Don't he have to help clear like Joe and me do?"
"Yeah," Joe added. "Don't he have to help us?"
"Your brother's getting too old for chores like that," Ben explained. "Besides, he has plans."
"Humph," Hoss pouted. "I got me some plans too but nobody gives no never-mind about them."
"Be back by 10:00," Ben called out as Adam rushed out, grabbing his hat and jacket. He wasn't allowed a gun belt yet but he planned to slip his .22 into its saddle scabbard; his father encouraged it as the territory was still basically lawless.
It was dark when Adam rode up the road to the Bonners and both Rick and Jeff along with Carl Reagan were sitting at the base of a huge oak set off from the small ranch house. All three were passing around a bottle of whiskey that was practically empty; they had obviously been drinking while waiting for Adam.
"What took you so damn long?" Carl asked. "You have to change Little Joe's diapers afore you could leave or rock that half-wit brother of yours to sleep?" Carl slapped Rick on the arm and they both laughed as if it was the funniest remark made ever. Jeff took another slug of the whiskey. Another corked bottle lay in the dirt beside him. "Can't you just hear Adam now?" Carl continued, singing, "Rock-a-bye, Hossie, on the tree top… when the wind blows, the tree falls over 'cause the baby's so fat!" He giggled wildly. "Right, Adam?
"Shut up, Carl." Adam dismounted and stood looking down at them "Where'd you get the whiskey?"
"I bought it," Jeff said. Adam doubted it. Sometimes the barkeeps didn't much care who they sold to but the Bonner brothers were well known for raucous behavior that whiskey would only encourage, and Jeff was underage. "With a little help from Old Dixie." Rick said, breaking into a knowing laugh. Jeff and Carl joined in but Adam didn't see anything funny. Old Dixie was the town drunk who wore the same filthy, stained suit all the time, slept in the straw of the livery stable and during the day, staggered about asking for handouts so he could buy himself a drink. He always smelled of stale whiskey and urine. And as for the "Old," he wasn't really, maybe 40, but for as long as Adam could remember, Old Dixie had been slinking through alleys, skulking along walls and importuning Adam and his father and anyone and everyone for coin; drinking helped the "misery" in his back.
"Yeah," Rick added, "We gave 'im money and told him to buy a bottle for himself. You shoulda seen that old man. Was so excited he practically peed on himself." They all laughed except Adam; he still didn't find it funny. A ruined man was never amusing to him. When Adam was young, he had asked his father about Old Dixie, what was wrong with him, and his father had said that Old Dixie's body was habituated to alcohol, it wanted drink more than food. And for Adam to let that be a lesson.
"C'mon, Adam," Carl said, "sit down and have a slug. More'n enough. But I think Dixie bought us rotgut, cheap stuff and held back some money."
"Well, I couldn't very well go inside and choose the bottles now, could I?" Jeff asked.
Adam took the half-empty bottle and ran the palm of his hand over the mouth.
"Whatsa matter, Adam?" Carl asked. "You 'fraid of disease from us?"
"Hell," Rick said, as he coughed after taking a swallow from the other bottle, "this stuff'll kill anything. Not even clap would stand a chance. A man'd just have to stick it in the bottle and he'd be cured!" Laughter broke out again and even Adam smiled at that.
Adam took a swallow and the whiskey burned his throat; he involuntarily shuddered. The others laughed. "Here," Adam said recorking the bottle and tossing it back. "That stuff tastes like turpentine. You can have it."
"Well," Carl said, taking the bottle, "we wouldn't want you to get too drunk anyway, would we boys? Might put you off, ruin your balance." All three laughed.
"What are you talking about?" Adam asked, his skin prickling. They were up to something.
Carl and the Bonner brothers exchanged glances and Carl giggled again. "We know it's your last night home so we got a surprise for you."
"What kind of surprise?" Adam looked at the three faces of his friends and knew something bad was in the works, at least bad in his opinion.
They all laughed again and Jeff said, "We found you a woman for tonight." Both Bonners and Carl broke out in guffaws.
"If you could only see your face!" Carl said as he rocked with delight, pointing. "You look like a scared virgin on her weddin' night!"
Jeff stood up. "C'mon, Adam. Mount up." At that direction, Carl and Rick bent double with laughter, slapping each other on the back.
"You hear that?" Carl said to Adam. "Mount up? Hell, Adam, she's a pretty one too, ain't she, boys? Might even have a little fun with her myself."
"Jeff and me was in Agua Dorado, you know that little place where they found gold a few years ago? Well, we bought her a drink. Them barkeeps there don't care how old you are. Found out she works the camps, couldn't be more'n 20. We told her 'bout you leavin' to go to school back east and how you always wash up and smell all clean."
"But you're still wet behind the ears from all that washin'," Carl said, giggling. The Bonners joined in.
"Adam," Jeff said, "her name's Bess. I think she never had anyone educated like you. I bet she don't ask too much and we'll all chip in, up to a $1.50."
Carl scowled. "I still say that's too much money; fifty cents from each of us. Hell, I had to steal money outta my ma's sugar bowl. I think once Adam's done with his fun, we should just ride away and give her nothin'. What' she gonna do? Ain't no law for miles."
"Now don't go back on your end…" Jeff started, pointing at Carl. He was beginning to slur his words.
"Wait," Adam said. "I don't want to ride over to Agua Dorado." He was going to add, "and I don't want some two-bit whore," just because it sounded like something a man might say. But he couldn't. For a reason he couldn't fathom, Adam suddenly felt deeply sorry for "Bess", protective even-and he hadn't even met her. She must have a miserable life, a young girl being used by men and trying to survive in mining camps. And how many "Besses" were there in this world? And there was nothing he could do about it. She could probably use the money. "Why can't we do something here?"
"Like what?" Carl asked. "Go join the old ladies quiltin' circle?"
"No, but…there has to be something we can do."
Jeff and Rick stood up, Rick swaying on his feet. Jeff held his arm. "Take it easy, brother."
"I'm just a little dizzy. Guess it's the whiskey, maybe I need to walk it off…" Rick took a few unsure steps, then he vomited. All over one leg of Adam's trousers.
"What the… Look what you did!' Adam jumped aside and shook his leg, remnants of Rick's dinner, flying off his boot and trouser leg. "You got both my boots and…I'm gonna smell to high heaven!"
Carl hooted with laughter while Rick dropped to his knees and spewed even more into the grass. Then he lay down, rolled on his back and tried to subdue his retching but failed, rolling over and vomiting once more.
"That's it for me," Adam said. "I smell like the outhouse of some saloon."
"Me too," Jeff said, helping his brother to his feet. "C'mon, Rick. We can sneak in the back way so Ma won't smell you. I'll tell her you're havin' loose ones; she'll think it's her cookin' and won't bother with you then 'cept to ask if you want paregoric."
Rick was having trouble finding his feet and stumbled a few steps before stopping and looking back. "I'm sorry, Adam. I didn't mean to get you, it just…"
"Yeah, yeah…I know Rick, I know." Adam and Carl watched as Jeff, their horses' reins in one hand, the other helping hold up his brother, headed back toward their house.
"Look, they left the other bottle." Carl swooped down to pick it up. "How 'bout it? You and me go take this bottle to Sarah Caney's house? We can toss a few pebbles at her window. She's sweet on you, Adam. Bet she'd come out and have a little drink with us." Carl grinned, his eyes twinkling. "Whaddaya say? I bet she'd even let us kiss her." Carl giggled. "Maybe more, if we get some of this whiskey down her."
"Carl, look at me! Take a whiff! I reek! I wouldn't go anywhere like this and I sure am not going to Sarah's house. Besides, her pa'd unload a few barrels of double-aught shot up our asses if he caught us."
"C'mon, Adam! You can wade in that little swimming lake and wash that stuff off. I though we were supposed to have fun tonight! The only fun I've had so far is seeing Rick puke all over you."
Adam shook his head in disgust but he actually was relieved that Rick had been sick and that his trousers stank. Now he had an excuse to go home, wouldn't have to tell his friends that he had to be home by 10:00. After all, the Bonners and Carl stayed out as late as they wished. Now Adam could save face and also avoid any trouble because if he went along with Carl's plan, he knew there would be. Adam suddenly know all he wanted, longed for, was his house and his Pa and his brothers. He needed to see the Ponderosa windows glowing with lamplight as he rode up and the warmth of the huge fireplace to ward off the cold breeze that caused him to pull up his jacket collar - the harbinger of winter.
And maybe, after he washed and changed, he'd have another scoop of peach cobbler with his father if he was still up.
As Adam made his way home, keeping to the safety of the road in the darkness, he pulled out the pocket watch. He angled it to catch the moonlight and made out that it was a little past 9:00. He'd be home early.
The windows were glowing as Adam rode into the yard, dismounted, and took his horse into the barn and lit the lantern hanging on a post. The roan mare obediently went to her stall, waiting to be unsaddled while dipping her muzzle in her water bucket. Adam set about to work quickly. He wanted to stick his soiled trouser leg and boots under the pump before he went in the house. He hated to lie but if his father asked him…Adam tried to think of a plausible reason why he'd be wet to his knees this time of year.
"I thought it was you."
Adam jumped at the sound of his father's voice. "Oh, yeah … well.." Adam went back to unsaddling he mare.
"Home early, I see." Ben sniffed the air. "Great Caesar's ghost! What's that smell? That you, boy? Smells like sour milk and cheap whiskey!"
Adm tossed the saddle on the rail. "That's because it's Rick Bonner's dinner and rotgut whiskey. He retched all over my leg and boots and I've been smelling that stink the whole ride home."
Ben suppressed a grin. "Surprised a surfeit of skunks didn't follow you home." Then his voice became serious. "But what about you? Did you drink?"
Adam worked the bit out of the mare's mouth, the water and slobber wetting his hand. "I had a taste.
"Only a taste?"
"Yeah, a taste. It was like drinking kerosene or turpentine. Surprised it didn't melt my teeth."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"No…if you don't mind, Pa."
"Then you best come inside and clean up but rinse those trousers outside and toss them over the corral fence. And douse the lantern."
~ 0 ~
"Feeling better?" Ben asked Adam who came down the stairs in his robe, his nightshirt showing at the neckline.
"Cleaner, so yes. Any of that cobbler left or did Hoss have seconds and thirds?"
"There's half the pan left. Think I might join you. Nice glass of milk might help me sleep."
"Think you might have trouble sleeping, Pa?" Father and son walked into the kitchen, still warm from the stove fire.
"Yes, just like I have the past few nights. How about you?" Ben pulled out bowls and spoons while Adam poured milk. Ben and Adam sat at the round kitchen table eating, the hanging light enveloping the two in a warm glow.
"Pa, I've been thinking…" Adam said as he raised a spoonful of cobber, "maybe I should put off going to school. I mean there's still a lot I need to learn around here and it's going to cost quite a bit and Joe and Hoss being so young and you being the only parent…" Adam's voice drifted off.
"Those are the same arguments I was going to use along with the fact that you're too young to be crossing the whole continent alone."
"Then you think I should stay home?" Adam felt relief flow through him. Tomorrow could now be like any other day, breakfast and then work about the property after taking Hoss to school, Joe riding along in the wagon bed.
"No. I think you should go." Ben sipped at his milk.
"But you just said that my arguments were your arguments."
"That's true. While I was waiting for you tonight, I was contriving ways to convince you not to go away to school. After all, what do you need to learn about architecture? I supervised building this house without any knowledge and then you helped build the second story, had good ideas that worked well. That's when you starting talking about creating magnificent, imposing buildings that would stand centuries after you were gone.
"I always knew you were talented. Remember how you would create tiny houses with bark and wood – remember when you built that whole town?"
"Until Hoss crawled into the middle of it, demolishing it," Adam said smiling.
"We've talked about you going to university and together, decided to wait until you were 16. They wanted you sooner but we waited. Now you have a room at the boarding house, the dean is expecting you in three weeks and your new clothes are ready to be worn by the first Cartwright to ever set foot into a university. I'm proud of you, son. And I applaud your courage. Now I need the courage to let you go."
Adam looked down at his bowl of cobbler, his hands flat on the table, his appetite gone. "Pa…I'm scared. I'm so afraid of going all that way. And when I get there, I know I'll be homesick and I won't fit in…" His voice quavered. Adam didn't want to cry.
"And I'm going to worry and wait for your letters. But not as worried as I would have been."
Adam looked up. "Why not?"
"Because you came home unscathed. You didn't get drunk and you didn't get into trouble even though you were with the Bonners and Carl Reagan. I'm guessing they had a whole evening planned for you."
"They did but, Pa, you didn't leave me enough time to get in trouble." Father and son smiled and Ben reached out to tousle Adam's dark hair.
A shadow blocked the light in the doorway.
"What are you two doing up?" Ben asked his two younger sons who stood, hand in hand, in the kitchen doorway.
"Joe heard talkin' and so he woke me up. Said he thought we had burglars. And I started thinkin' somebody might be stealin' that cobbler."
"Yeah, Pa," Adam said, grinning. "I heard there was a cobbler thief on the loose."
"Yeah, Pa," Joe added, "I heared voices and so's I woke Hoss and he said there was cobbler and from the stairs we heared dishes and spoons and all that so's we thought somebody might be stealin' it. Can we have some?"
"Now, boys…" Ben said.
"Pa, if we eat all the cobbler, we won't have to worry about those thieves," Adam added.
"I suppose you're right, Adam. Go get the bowls and spoons for these two crime busters."
"Oh, boy," Joe said and scrambled up onto a kitchen chair.
"An' I'm bigger'n Joe so's I should get a bigger piece, okay?"
"Sure," Adam said, as he placed the bowls on the table and sat down. Adam realized this was really how he wanted to spend his last evening at home with those he loved in the place he loved. And their faces, Hoss', Joe's, his father's, were seared onto his brain like a hot branding iron on a calf's hide. This night would be with him forever and he would never forget where he belonged-and where he could always return. And as leaves fell away every fall, the tree remained behind, ready to welcome the returning buds of spring.
~ Finis ~