I'm back! :D This is a one-shot that I wrote for a writing challenge on Bonanza Boomers. The challenge was to write about the new Mrs. Cartwright the Fourth, which was really fun! I'm thinking about writing a longer story concerning Ben's "new" wife and how different Adam, Hoss, and Little Joe's lives would have been had their father re-married a fourth time. But for now, this is a completed AU Prequel piece. ;)

Disclaimer: I do not own Bonanza, it belongs to its respective owners and affiliates. I do, however, own the plot and all unrecognizable characters mentioned below in this story. Any copyright infringement is unintentional.

Of Mothers and Fathers

by Knowing Grace

"Joe?" A familiar hand rested on my shoulder—squeezing it gently.

"Go away." I mumbled against Cooch's neck, refusing to turn and face my oldest brother. He sighed, and in my mind's eye, I could picture him running the fingers of his free hand through his dark hair.

"Come on, Joe, don't be like this. You knew it was going to happen sooner or later, so why are you making such a fuss about it?"

My cheeks flushed with anger. "I said go away! Leave me be!"

"No."

"Go on, get!"

"No, I am not leaving this barn until you tell me why you're so upset about Pa marrying Mrs. Murphy." The hand released my shoulder, but still I remained stubbornly silent until I heard a rustle in the hay as he sat down. Then I realized just who I was talking to. If Hoss had been the one to come out and find me, he would have left by now, knowing that I wouldn't talk until I was ready. But this was Adam. He was as persistent as a dog with a bone and he would hang around until he managed to pry the answers he wanted out of me whether I was willing to give them to him or not.
My shoulders drooped and, slowly, I turned around and lowered myself onto the stall floor next to my brother. Picking up a piece of hay, I twirled it between my fingers, trying desperately to find where to begin.
Mrs. Kathleen Murphy really was one of the nicest ladies I knew and I loved playing with her son, Orin, even though he was only five-years-old. After her husband died in a mining accident, she had offered to take over teaching school whenever Miss Jones needed a break; she also worked at the hotel as a waitress in order to keep food on the table and a roof over her and her son's head. Whenever she was in charge at school, she always brought freshly baked cookies with her and she turned the boring, old lessons into games, pitting one side of the class room against the other and seeing which of the two teams could answer the most questions. In fact, it was on one fine, Spring day when she was teaching, that I got the chance to introduce the lady to Pa when he dropped by the schoolhouse to take me home. They had been attracted to each other from the word go, and even I could see that they were falling in love, though it made little sense to me. Girls were weird. They cried a lot and chattered constantly about the stupidest of things; I didn't see what my father or my older brothers saw in such odd creatures. When I told them so, they started laughing and told me that one day I would understand.
When Pa started courting Mrs. Murphy, it didn't bother me at all, but today, when Pa announced his intentions to marry her, all the doubts and fears that I had been blissfully unaware were brewing down deep in my heart, rose to the surface with alarming speed.

"I'm nearly a man, I don't need a ma nomore."

"Anymore." Adam instantly corrected me, and I frowned at him. Ignoring my look, he draped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer towards him until I was resting my head against his chest. "You know, when Pa came back from his trip to New Orleans with Marie on his arm, I felt exactly the way you do now. Come to think of it, I was ten-years-old just like you."

"I'm ten and three quarters." I grouched and he chuckled.

"All right. When I was ten and three quarters, I was doing a man's job around the ranch and I didn't want a complete stranger telling me what to do or taking up all of Pa' s time—time he had spent with me and Hoss. For several months, I treated Mama like she was less than the dust that clung to my boot-heels. Pa took me to task for it and tanned my hide more times than I care to remember, but in the end I realized what was really bothering me about Marie. The truth was, I missed Mama Inger terribly and I didn't want anyone taking her place in my heart or in my life.

Marie was completely different from Mama Inger: she was fashionable and loved to decorate the sitting room with little nick-knacks imported all the way from France. She played the piano at church and one time, when we were trapped inside the house during a blizzard, she tried to teach me how to knit. That didn't go so well, as you might imagine, but that was just the sort of person that Marie was. In the end, she found a place in my heart, but I still had room enough for her, my own mother, and Mama Inger."

"I remember her, you know—my Mama. Most people don't think I do 'cause she died when I was only a little squirt, but I do. She smelled like lilacs; I never could tell if that was some sort of perfume she wore or if it was 'cause she spent so much time planting flowers in her garden. She loved to laugh, and it didn't take much to make her to smile. She always made such a mess in the kitchen when she tried to cook; I remember Hop Sing shouting at her in Cantonese whenever he came in and saw the counters covered in flour and eggshells, or when he discovered all the dirty bowls she'd left in the sink." From the corner of my eye, I could see Adam's lips twitch upwards at the mention of Mama's misadventures in the kitchen. She had been as terrible at cooking as Pa was—if not worse—and if it wasn't for Hop Sing, we all probably would have died of food poisoning a long time ago.

"Yeah, she was really something." He murmured and I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes.

"I-I miss her, Adam. I try not to think about her too much, but when she died she left an empty space inside of me, and no matter what I try to fill it with, it just seems to get bigger and bigger." A single tear rolled down my cheek and dripped onto my brother's ruby, red shirt, but he made no comment on it.

"I know what you mean, but you can't just think about yourself, Little Buddy. You aren't the only one who's going to be going through the discomfort of getting used to a new parent." I swiped a hand across my face and leaned back to look at him.

"Yeah, I know, but you and Hoss have already been through this before, you know how to handle it..." I trailed off as he shook his head.

"No, I wasn't talking about us, I meant Orin. Ever since he was three he's been without a father; even though he's young, what do you think he's feeling, knowing that our Pa's going to be the one to teach him all the things that his own papa never got the chance to?" I blinked, letting the question sink in.

"I-I never thought about that. I guess he might not be too thrilled about it neither."

"Either."

"Whatever."

Adam, rolled his eyes and ruffled my hair. "Little Joe," He said, surprising me for he rarely used my nickname, "you'll always miss your Mama, just like I do, but don't do like I did; don't close your heart and mind to the idea of having a new mother. In time you'll come to know for yourself that she isn't a replacement—because no one can ever replace Marie—but as a gift. After all, there aren't too many other boys around here who can say they've had two mothers."

"Four in your case, Adam." I chirped.

He smiled at me and then, without warning, he attacked—tickling me without mercy until I begged for him to stop. When he ceased tormenting me, he pulled me in for a quick hug.

"Come on, Little Buddy, let's go inside. It's getting chilly out here and the sun's about to go to bed for the night." He said, releasing me and climbing to his feet.

"If we have to." I replied, pulling a few pieces of hay from my hair. I stood and gave Cooch one last pat on the neck before I slipped out of his stall and joined my brother near the entrance to the barn.

"Adam?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks...for everything." A wicked grin slid across his face.

"Well, I've never had anyone thank me for tickling them before, but I guess there's always a first time."

I shoved his shoulder. "You know what I mean."

He winked at me and pushed the door wide enough for the both of us to slip through before he closed it in our wake. "You're welcome. Now come on. If we don't hurry, Hoss will have eaten all of the fried chicken that Hop Sing made for supper today..."

~ The End