Young and Libba, fully dressed, escaped to the barn and began one of their favorite chores – currying Sport and Fancy.
"Papa sounded angry," Young said.
"Uh-huh," Libba answered.
"Wonder what our punishment would be?" Young was thinking hard.
"Dunno."
"I want a pony of my own," Young stated.
"Me too!" Libba smiled.
Young was quiet for a moment. "And I wanna shave like Papa. And have a hairy chest and arms like Papa."
Libba brightened. "Me too!" And she raced into the house to look for her mother. "Mama! Mama!" Libba shouted.
"What, sweetie?" Sam was kneading bread dough.
"I want a hairy chest like Papa!"
Sam dropped the ball of dough on the counter. "What?"
"I want a hairy chest like Papa. And hairy arms!"
Wiping the flour off her hands, Sam knelt down to look at her daughter. Libba was serious. "Libba, honey. You're a girl and you will never have hair on your chest or arms like Papa does. That's another difference between boys and girls. But there's one thing that you will be able to do when you get married that Young will never be able to do."
Libba's eyes widened. "What?"
Sam smiled. "Have babies."
"I want a pony instead," said Libba as she ran out to the barn. Babies didn't impress her much.
Adam leaned against the door frame, toothpick in his mouth. "That certainly went well," he said drolly.
Sam threw a piece of dough at her husband. "I wish children were born with an instruction book so I'd know what to say and do."
Adam peeled the wad of dough from the door jamb, walked over to Sam and kissed her. "You're doing just fine. We're all learning as we go." He plopped the dough into her hand. "Let's go to town today. You've done a wonderful job of cutting Young's hair, but he has been wanting a haircut at the barbershop. You and Libba can shop for a while and then we can have lunch."
Sam smiled. "Give me a minute. This dough needs to be covered. It will rise while we're gone."
"I'll hitch up the wagon and round up the kids. Meet you outside in a few minutes." Strapping on his gun and putting on his hat, Adam headed outside.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Can I hold the reins, Papa?" Young asked when everybody was seated in the buggy.
"Not all by yourself, son," Adam replied. "We can hold the reins together."
"When can I hold the reins all by myself?"
"When you get a little older, son."
"I wish I would hurry up and get older," Young sighed. "But today I'm going to a real barbershop!"
"Me too!" chortled Libba.
"No, Libba," Sam said gently. "Girls don't go to barbershops. Only men do."
Libba poked out her tongue. "I wanna have fun."
"Don't you like to shop with me?" Sam asked, her nose wrinkling as she smiled.
"Yes, ma'am. We can buy cloves?"
"If we find something that we like, then we can buy clothes," Sam answered.
That seemed to satisfy Libba. Adam started singing a song and everybody joined in until they got to Virginia City.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Sam kissed Adam on the cheek before he and Young headed for the barbershop. "Let's meet at the International House for lunch in an hour," Sam suggested. Adam nodded and took Young's hand as they headed off in the opposite direction from Sam. As father and son neared the barbershop, Young sped ahead and ran in the door. He came out, his face white as a ghost.
"Papa! We can't go there! Mister Rankin is trying to kill somebody!" Young was out of breath.
Adam had no idea what was going on, but he loosened his gun in its holster. Just in case it was needed. "You sit right here and don't move. I'll be right back."
Young did as he was told. And his father returned quickly with a smile on his face. "It's okay, Young. Mister Rankin isn't trying to kill anyone. Let me show you what's going on."
Young, still frightened, took Adam's hand and walked into the barbershop.
"Good morning again, Phillip," Adam said in greeting, a smile playing about his lips. "My son and I would like to have haircuts today."
Phillip Rankin looked at Young – the boy was a carbon copy of his father. "Have a seat, Adam. I'll finish with the sheriff here and will be right with you."
Young squeaked. He didn't see Sheriff Coffee anywhere. All he saw was a man leaning back in the barber chair with his face completely covered by a big towel with steam coming out of it.
"'Morning', Adam. Did I hear you say you brought Young with you?" Roy's hand lifted in greeting.
"Young is getting his first 'grown-up' haircut today," Adam said as he sat down. "But I must say, you and Phillip gave him quite a scare. He saw you with the towel on your face and thought that Phillip was killing you."
Both Phillip and Roy chuckled as Phillip unwrapped the towel from Roy's face and pushed the chair upright.
Young looked very confused.
Phillip explained. "I put the wet, hot towels on Sheriff Coffee's face to make his beard softer. It makes it easier to shave that way. Now I put on some shaving soap and start to shave his face."
Young was both relieved and entranced as he watched Phillip apply the shaving soap and then deftly use the razor. When this process was done, Roy walked over and shook hands with Adam. And then he shook hands with Young. Young felt very grown up. Roy left and Young climbed into the waiting chair. And he was very good while Phillip cut his hair. Adam had only had to tell his son one time to stop wiggling. When the cutting was done, Phillip handed Young a mirror so he could see the results. Young was proud – he looked like his Papa with his black wavy hair cut in basically the same style. As Young got out of the chair, Adam sat down and had his own hair cut. Young didn't sit down again. He leaned against the wall as he watched. He had inherited another of his father's characteristics to go along with the way Adam crossed his arms and the way he walked.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Meanwhile, Sam and Libba were looking at different things in the store. Mindy came in, with her very pregnant tummy preceding her. She and Sam hugged each other happily. Mindy ran her hands through Libba's hair. "Honestly, Sam, this child gets prettier every day."
Sam smiled. "She's such a blessing."
No sooner had Sam spoken than Libba piped up. "Miz Barton's fat."
Mindy laughed out loud as Sam gaped and blushed. "Mindy, I'm so sorry. Libba didn't mean that the way…"
Mindy continued to laugh. "Don't worry, Sam! Do you know how often I hear that from other children? Mostly they say it behind my back, but the truth is the truth. I do look fat. It's hard for a child to know the difference between being fat and being pregnant."
"Preg'unt," Libba parroted. "What's that?"
Sam knelt down, hearing Mindy's giggle, and said, "'Pregnant'. It means she's going to have a baby. She carries the baby in her tummy and that's what makes her look different. I looked the same way before you and Young were born."
Libba stared at Mindy's tummy. "Does it hurt?"
Mindy hadn't stopped laughing. "No, Libba, it doesn't hurt. Not at all. It just looks funny."
Libba lost interest and began looking around the store. Sam told Mindy the story about Young, Libba and the "worm." Mindy laughed til she cried.
"I just came in for a pickle or two," Mindy said, wiping the tears from her face. "You two have really perked me up. Frankly, I'm tired of not seeing my feet and being constantly kicked at night. I can't remember when I had a good sleep."
Sam nodded. "I understand. I'm so glad I got to see you. Let's get together as soon as you feel like it."
Mindy bought a whole pickle jar and winked at Sam. They hugged again, and Mindy left. Sam found Libba looking at a jar of candy. Libba looked up at Sam. "Was I bad?"
"No, honey. You just didn't know." Sam smiled at her precious daughter.
When the two left the store, Sam had patterns and cloth to make dresses for Libba and her doll and a few yards of cloth for herself. Libba had a small bag of candy to share with Young after lunch.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Sam and Libba entered The International House and found Adam and Young already seated and waiting.
"What do you think, Libba? These men look very handsome. Do you think they'll let us sit with them?" Sam winked at Adam.
Adam rose to his feet and prompted Young with a whispered, "A gentleman always stands up when ladies come to the table."
Young stood up. He so wanted to be like his father. Adam pretended to hesitate. Then he spoke to his son. "Young, here are two lovely ladies whose company we could enjoy. Shall we ask them to sit with us?"
"Yes, sir!" Young answered, getting into the swing of the game.
Adam took Sam's hand. Young watched and took Libba's hand. Adam spoke for himself and for Young. "Would you lovely ladies like to join us for lunch? The food here is quite good."
"Why, we would be most delighted. Thank you very much." Sam spoke, but Libba giggled.
Adam pulled a chair out for Sam to be seated. Young did the same for Libba. He intuited that this was another thing that a "gentleman" did. Adam pushed Sam's chair gently under the table. Young tried to do the same for Libba but almost turned the chair over in the process. Adam grabbed it just in time to steady it without being too obvious. Libba continued to giggle and soon had Sam giggling too.
"Young, your haircut makes you look grown up," Sam praised.
"Sheriff Coffee had a towel on his face." Young looked at Adam.
"Well," Adam explained, "Phillip had put a hot towel on Roy's face and reclined the chair. It looked like Phillip was trying to kill Roy. But he was just softening Roy's beard." Though Adam didn't elaborate, Sam read between the lines. She imagined how Young must have interpreted that scene.
The menus were already on the table. Adam and Young had already made their choices, and Sam and Libba quickly made theirs. The waitress took their orders and hurried to the kitchen. Adam and Sam put their napkins in their laps. Young and Libba did the same. It was plain that they wanted to copy their parents' every move. And, when Henrietta and Thelma stopped to say hello, Adam stood up. So did Young. The two women were righteously impressed.
"What wonderful manners!" exclaimed Henrietta. "It's so nice to see well-raised children these days."
"And what beautiful children they both are," gushed Thelma. "I can't wait to tell Drucilla and Delmas!" The two women trotted off to a nearby table and sat down. They both agreed that the children were exceptional. Unfortunately, a rather obese Mrs. Brandt and her husband happened to pass the table where Sam and Adam were seated.
Up jumped Libba with glee. "Preg'unt!" she shouted and pointed at a very prim and proper Mrs. Brandt.
Sam pulled Libba back down into a seated position, but the damage was done. Waddling to the table, Mrs. Brandt glared at Libba. Adam and Young rose to their feet, but they were ignored. "I am most certainly not pregnant. What a coarse and vulgar word you've taught your child," Mrs. Brandt spat, glaring at Sam.
Libba didn't like this lady's attitude. Adam and Young both looked confused. So Libba spoke. "Not preg'unt? Then just fat?"
"Horace!" screeched Mrs. Brandt. "Say something!"
"Let's go sit down, dear," was all Horace could think of to say.
"Not until I get an apology!" Mrs. Brandt maintained.
Sam spoke quietly but with authority. "I make no apologies for what my daughter said. She is just a child and has yet to learn the difference between being pregnant and being overweight. And, for your information, the word 'pregnant' is the correct terminology for being 'with child'. She may have been confused about the first description of you, but she wasn't confused about the second one. Now, if you'll excuse us, our lunch is being served."
Mrs. Brandt's face went florid, and her mouth opened but no words came out. Horace grabbed her by the arm and propelled her across the room to a table.
Adam and Young sat down. Adam looked at Sam. "You realize you just insulted the wife of the president of our bank." But Adam didn't look angry.
Sam shrugged. "She's an insulting woman. She could've handled the situation in any number of other ways."
Young jumped to Libba's defense quickly. "She is fat!" He had followed what his mother said closely and thus had figured out what "pregnant" meant.
Adam choked on his lemonade. "I think you'd better tell me what your day has been like. Libba's learned a new word and I'm curious to know where it came from." He grinned his lop-sided grin.
Sam recapped the meeting and the conversation with Mindy from the shopping trip. Adam put his napkin over his mouth so he wouldn't laugh out loud.
"Mama?" Libba asked. "Was I bad?"
"Certainly not, honey," Sam replied, stroking Libba's cheek. "But a good thing to remember from now on is to not make comments about anybody. There are fat people and skinny ones. Tall ones and short ones. Ugly ones and pretty ones. There are some who have a different color skin. There are some who can't walk without crutches or are sitting in a wheelchair. There are some who can't talk plainly. But they all have feelings, and I know you wouldn't want to hurt those feelings on purpose. These are things that you and Young should both learn."
"She still is fat," Young piped up. "Is it okay if we tell you and Papa that?"
"If you whisper it so quietly that nobody else can hear. No pointing at people and then whispering. People know when they're being talked about." Adam's voice was gentle.
After lunch, Young and Libba, watching their parents, folded their napkins and put them neatly on the table. It was time to go back home.
Thanks to Henrietta and Thelma, this particular story spread like wildfire through Virginia City. It was certainly good for a laugh.