This is a short piece I wrote in response to a writers challenge in one of my forum groups. The challenge was to write a story that somehow had one of the holidays, any one from Halloween to New Years Eve, as part of the plot. I chose Halloween, and although it is over for this year, I did want to go ahead and post the story here as well.
Episodic television, particularly in the sixties, did tend to hit that 'shiny red reset button' at the end of each episode, returning the characters to their old familiar relationships and locales, despite what might have happened previously. Passionate loves, undying friendship, and sometimes great tragedy swept through an episode, never to be referenced again. In the case of one of the very best of all their episodes, 'The Crucible', I thought this was a real shame. I recently watched the episode in question with my husband, who turned to me and asked in surprise, "That was a Bonanza episode?" I personally think the events that transpired during that extraordinary show deserved a follow up, and since Bonanza did not provide one, I had to do it myself.
If you do take the time to read, reviews and criticisms are always welcome!
Campfire Confessional
"Hey, Pa, come here, you gotta see this!"
With a smile, Ben Cartwright rose from his desk and walked towards where his youngest son was standing at the open front door. Peering over his shoulder, his smile widened and he began to laugh as he saw Hoss walking towards the house. His middle son's large arms were wrapped around a massive pumpkin, and though the object's weight was no burden to his burly strength, he was having difficulty keeping the shiny gourd from slipping from his fingertips.
"There," Hoss cried, carefully setting the pumpkin down on the front porch and taking a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow before folding his arms and gazing down at it with a wide, gap-toothed smile. "Now ain't that the purtiest pumpkin you ever did see?"
"Well, it's certainly the biggest," conceded Ben, as he and Joe joined Hoss on the porch.
"Sure gives us a lot to work with," replied Joe, nodding in approval. "I'm sure we're going to win the Jack-o'-lantern carving contest this year."
"I daresay you have enough 'canvas' to work with," said Ben, starting to laugh.
Joe began to clap loudly as Hoss made a low, exaggerated bow.
"What's going on?" asked a deep voice, breaking through the frivolity.
The three men on the porch turned and looked as Adam rode into the yard and dismounted from Sport.
"Hey, Big Brother, take a look at what we're going to use for our entry for the Jack-o'-lantern contest this year," explained Joe, putting his arm around Hoss's shoulder.
"Oh," said Adam, shortly, a frown appearing on his face as he eyed the pumpkin with vague distaste, "Halloween iscoming up, isn't it?"
The trio's good humor seemed to evaporate as the tall man continued to stare down at the object.
In the months since they had found him, wandering through the desert, hauling Peter Kane's body behind him, they had seen that expression too often on his face. He appeared deep in thought, his mouth set in a grim, humorless line and a haunted look in his hazel eyes.
"That's right," said Joe, trying to break through the uncomfortable silence that had arisen, "and this year Hoss and me are going to win the pumpkin-carving contest. Though if you're nice, I just might let you take the first prize in the apple dunking contest. I hear that the winner this year gets to lead a dance with Sally Jameson."
"That pretty little niece of Roy Coffee's?" asked Ben, raising his eyebrows and then glancing in the direction of his oldest son.
Sally Jameson was indeed the prettiest little thing to grace Virginia City in a long time, and she had made a point of flirting outrageously with all his sons the last time they were in town. But Adam continued to stare down fixedly at the pumpkin and made no response.
"You bet, Pa," said Hoss, nodding enthusiastically. "Oh, and Adam, you should see all the decorations they have up already in town. This is going to be the best danged Halloween party Virginia City has ever had. And more than one lady came up to me and asked if you was going to the dance with anybody yet and I said-"
But Adam had turned on his heel and walked back towards Sport, reaching out for his reins and beginning to lead him back towards the barn.
"I'm not going to the dance this year; in fact I'm not taking part in any of that stupid, juvenile celebration," he said flatly, his tone of voice making it clear that there would be no further discussion of the matter.
They waited in silence as they watched him lead Sport through the barn doors.
"Dagnammit, Pa," said Hoss, taking off his hat and scratching his head, "I was sure this was just the thing to get him excited about going to the Halloween party." Putting his hat back on his head, he sighed and frowned.
"I know," said Ben, shaking his head sadly.
"Oh, it's just 'cause he doesn't have a date yet," said Joe. "Hey, I got it!" he cried, snapping his fingers. "Look Hoss, you and me go back to town tomorrow and find one of those ladies who was asking about Adam and we-"
"No."
Ben's voice was quiet, but firm.
"If he doesn't want to go, we're not going to force him."
"But, Pa-"
"No," he repeated, holding out his hand to silence Joe.
"Now," he said, gesturing towards the pumpkin, "Hoss, you go take this into the kitchen and keep it out of sight."
"Yessir, Pa," said Hoss, sighing once again and bending down to pick it up.
"Just don't let Hop Sing make it into a pie before you get to carve your masterpiece," Ben said, smiling again.
Hoss looked down thoughtfully at the burden in his arms and licked his chops. "Might not be a bad idea at that, Pa."
"Hey, now, look, this is no time to tease-" began Joe as he followed behind Hoss into the house.
Shaking his head at his two younger sons, Ben turned and looked back towards the barn, his smile beginning to fade again.
His oldest son had been broken in mind, spirit and body when they first found him. Ben's joy at finding him alive had turned to anguish and grief as he held Adam's body in his arms as the young man sobbed uncontrollably. In the months since he had returned, Adam had only made a partial recovery. Although he had at first eagerly eaten Hop Sing's specially-prepared meals, in the weeks that followed there had been times when he sat, unmoving, at the table, his eyes darting between his hands and the silverware with a strange expression on his face. Insisting that he was quite well, he had demanded to return to usual chores almost immediately. But there were many times when Ben had turned to find him gazing fixedly at the ground, that same vacant, haunted expression upon his face. Yet, he found that preferable to the time had had come upon him working at the forge. The force with which he was furiously pounding the hot iron, and the grim expression on his face, had left no doubt in Ben's mind that he was trying to use the physical exertion to exorcise the demons that were still plaguing his memories.
As he headed toward the barn, Ben was struck by a sudden insight. Whatever had happened during that tortured two-week period, Adam had evidently had his fill of real-life evil and malevolence. He could fully understand why he had no stomach at the moment for a revelry featuring make-believe monsters.
He walked through the doors and saw that Adam had already brushed down Sport, and was finishing up the barn chores for the evening, spreading out fresh hay for the horses.
"I'm not going to the dance, Pa," he said, without turning his head. "So if you're here to lecture, or-"
"No, not at all," said Ben, trying to keep his tone of voice casual as he stopped and petted Buck's neck for a moment. "I was just wondering, since you're not going to the dance, if you'd like to go on a little trip with me this weekend instead."
"Trip?" he asked, pausing to lean on the pitchfork for a moment. "What kind of a trip?"
There was more than a hint of suspicion in his voice.
Ben shrugged his shoulders. "Just a little getaway somewhere." He frowned and shoved his hands into his pockets. "How about a trip up to one of the lakes to do some fishing?"
He instantly knew he had said something wrong by the way his son's body had suddenly stiffened and his eyes had once again turned vacant.
"I'll work my way over to Pyramid Lake and get in a little fishing before heading home."
That's what he had said to Joe that day he left him behind in Eastgate and his nightmare had begun.
With a start, he realized that his father had walked over to him and placed a hand upon his shoulder.
"Doesn't have to be fishing," he said, his dark eyes searching his son's face and relieved to see him break out of his reverie.
"We don't have time for a pleasure trip," growled Adam, turning away and spearing another forkful of hay. "There are a lot of other things I could be doing. We still need to make a deal with Martin Gills about those horses we want."
"We sure do," said Ben, nodding in agreement. "So why don't you and I take a trip up there on Saturday? We'll camp out on the way over, and then spend a night in Fowler Flats before we head back again."
"Don't you trust me to do it myself?" Adam replied, grumpily, spreading out the hay.
"Of course I do," he answered, a touch of anger creeping into his voice as well. "Now, look," he said, as his voice continued to rise, "is there some reason why an old man can't want to spend some time alone with his eldest son?"
"Yep," answered Adam, throwing the pitchfork to the side.
Ben straightened up so that he could look the younger man in the eye as he turned towards him.
"You're not an old man," he said, a hint of a smile playing around the corners of his mouth.
Ben grinned in response, happy to see a bit of Adam's old spark in his expression.
"And," he added, dropping his gaze to the floor, "I'm not the best of company these days."
"Well," said Ben, reaching out to tap him on the arm, "you're always good company to me, son."
Adam smiled slightly, but did not look up at him.
"Now, come on," said Ben, turning away and heading towards the door. "We better get in to supper before Hoss and Joe eat it all."
Heading back towards the house, he was happy to hear Adam begin to whistle softly under his breath as he fastened the barn doors and followed behind him.
Lord, it's been a long time since I've heard any music from him, thought Ben.
That Saturday night, as they spent All Hallow's Eve out on the open prairie, there was more music. Although he had not been able to persuade him to bring his guitar, as they sat around the fire Ben had been able to cajole Adam into joining him in singing some of their favorites: EarlyOneMorning,InthePines,DownBytheRiverLiv'daMaidenand SweetBetsyfromPike. On the latter, they outdid themselves coming up with their own outrageous verses until the hills echoed with their laughter.
"It's good to hear you laugh again, son," said Ben, as he poured the last of the coffee into their cups.
"It feels good to laugh again, Pa," answered Adam, clicking his cup against Ben's before tilting his head back to take a large gulp of the liquid. "But I just wasn't up to a party," he said, shaking his head as he set the coffee cup down again.
"I know," Ben answered, taking a sip of his own. "Or at least, I think I know," he amended, looking questioningly over the rim of his cup at his son.
They had first managed to get Adam to Salt Flats, and find a doctor to look after him. The sheriff in that town had confirmed that Peter Kane was a 'strange old bird' of a prospector, and since there was no outward sign of violence upon his body, had evidenced little interest in just how he had died. After learning that he had shot his own mule, the lawman had shrugged and said that he wouldn't be the first man who had 'gone off his head' after a long run of bad luck. He had contented himself with congratulating the family on finding their missing member, happily surrendered the money that had been found on the bodies of Jim Gant and Frank Preston, and looked rather quizzical when they insisted upon giving Kane's body a decent Christian burial despite what he had done to Adam. After giving his brief description of his ordeal, Adam had ignored all of their subsequent questions, the clenching of his jaw and the appearance of more tears in his eyes convincing Ben that it was best to stop persisting in their attempt to understand just what had happened between the two men.
But now, he wondered if his son wanted, or perhaps needed, to tell him more about what he had been through.
Adam leaned back against a rock and tilted his head up to the sky, his eyes scanning the bright stars as he brought his hands up to clasp his knees.
"You know, Pa," he said, finally, "it was more than what that man did to me. It was the doubts that the whole experience gave me about just who-or what-I am."
Ben waited patiently as his son took in a deep breath before continuing.
"I had been so sure, so cocky, when I was talking to Joe that day. I knew exactly how I could control myself, how I could never be driven to murder."
Releasing his grip, he suddenly sprang to his feet, reminding his father in his movements of a graceful, restless mountain lion as he began to pace back and forth.
"But I would never have thought that I would have done some of the things that man forced me to do, simply to stay alive," he hissed, his hands beginning to clench and unclench at his side as he continued to pace. "I hated him for doing that to me…I feared him for showing me what I would endure in order to survive."
"But you didn't sink down to his level," protested Ben, rising to his feet as well. "In the end, you made the decision to risk the slim chance you had of surviving by bringing his body with you."
Adam stopped and turned slightly away from the older man. When he spoke, it was so softly that Ben had to lean forward to catch the words.
"When I was tying him to the stretcher, there was a moment where I picked up a rock," he admitted.
Turning back towards his father, he continued: "I almost bashed his brains in, Pa."
"But you didn't."
Adam sighed and turned away from him again. "But I wanted to, Pa. I don't know as I've ever been so tempted in all of my life."
For a long moment there was silence, finally broken by the sound of a coyote howling in the distance. Adam felt his father's hands upon his shoulders.
"Forgive me, son."
Surprised, he turned around to look at the older man.
"Forgive you, Pa? But-"
Shaking his head, Ben continued. "It wasn't easy trying to raise you boys by myself. At times, I felt more than a little overwhelmed trying to manage everything. I felt I had to be perfect for you, to always have all the answers, to never be caught making a mistake. And it certainly was important for me to try and teach you right from wrong."
Dropping his hands to his sides, he shrugged. "I guess somewhere along the way I should have let you know that knowing what the right thing to do is and actually doing it are two different things. And it sure isn't easy at times to do the right thing. And it takes a remarkably good man to survive what you did with his humanity intact."
They stood looking at each other for a long time.
"I wish," Ben said, finally, struggling for words, "I wish that this had never happened to you, I wish that I could take away some of the pain that you are feeling…but I can't. All I can do is let you know how much I love you and how proud I am of you."
"Pa, I'm not the man I was before this happened. And I don't think I ever will be again."
"No," Ben agreed, shaking his head. "But that doesn't mean that you will ever be less than an honorable man, filled with all the doubts and temptations that every honorable man wrestles with for his entire life."
"You trying to make it sound too easy again there, Pa?" Adam asked with a smile.
"Well," laughed Ben, shrugging his shoulders, "you are a Cartwright, and we all know how they behave."
"Speaking of which, I wonder how those brothers of mine are behaving themselves tonight," said Adam, kneeling down to add some firewood to the fire.
"Oh, well, I suppose that Hoss is having quite the time sampling all that good party food, and Joseph, of course, is having quite the time dancing with as many ladies as possible," said Ben, bending down to pick up the coffee cups and set them down next to the pot.
"Including, uh, Sally Jameson?" asked Adam, as he began to make his bed on the ground.
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that too much, son," said Ben, as he began to spread out his blankets as well. "Roy told me that she confided in him that she's developed a bit of a crush on a certain tall, Eastern-born man with a musical gift."
"Does that mean what I think it means, Pa?"
"It certainly does." He waited a beat. "She's going to be your next stepmother."
He smiled contentedly as he heard Adam's deep, throaty chuckle.
"Goodnight, Pa. And Happy Halloween."
"It's probably All Saints Day by now," replied Ben with a yawn.
And thank you, dear Saints, for giving me back my son.