CHAPTER "TEN"
BEN CARTWRIGHT HAD lived long enough to have suffered through too many nights in frosty conditions—operating a ranch the size of the Ponderosa demanded that he ride out and survey the boundaries on occasion, as well as having to head cattle drives and timber harvesting, so he very often had to go out during storms in order to personally handle one disaster or another regarding the animals or the property. Even before Ben came to own the Ponderosa, there was many a time that he had been hard-pressed to keep himself and Adam or Hoss (or both of his sons) from succumbing to plunging temperatures on the trip out West. However, the patriarch was forced to admit that, of all the rain, sleet, and snow he had ever had to endure while out on the range or even just traveling, none of that had been as remotely freezing as it was in his bedroom just now.
Cassandra's spine as she sat with her back to him was stiff and straight, and Ben was at a loss as to figure out what kind of notion may have been running through her silver-and-gold head...all he knew was that she definitely didn't like the idea of his adopting the children in her care.
"Cassandra...Treasure..." Ben said in a cautious tone, "I'm making a perfectly logical and reasonable offer."
"Of course it would seem logical and reasonable to you, Ben," Cassie replied tightly, "You're not being told that Adam, Hoss and Joe would cease being Cartwrights." Her husband blinked.
"Cease being...?" he partially echoed her words, still not able to comprehend her meaning. "I don't understand...this is something that will bring our family closer together." Cassie stood up and marched over to the bed, pulling back the bed covers.
"This is something that will erase the name of Callahan!" the silvered blond retorted hotly. "It would be like saying...like saying that Jason had never existed!" Cassandra climbed into the bed, blew out the lamp on the table near her and yanked the covers up over her. Ben couldn't help but notice that she was hunched into a rather stiff position with her back to his side of the bed. He replaced the hairbrush he'd been using to groom her shining head and went to his own side of the bed, thoughtful as he, too, pulled the covers back and climbed in. Ben blew out the lamp on his night table and lay back in the bed.
Looking at it from Cassandra's point of view, Ben had to admit that there was a bit of a concern: in adopting the children, their natal name of Callahan would be replaced with Cartwright...and Jason Callahan's family would cease to exist—in name only, for the love with which he'd raised his family before his untimely death would doubtless continue. Ben also had to concede that, naturally, he wasn't worried about it—because it would be the Cartwright name that would continue to exist.
Ben needed to rethink the options, then, and see if there was some other way around the dilemma facing the twins. Meanwhile, however, the rancher resolved not to allow Cassandra to go to sleep in her current distressed state. He turned to her, reaching across the gulf between them and drawing her huddled body against his.
"I would sooner cut off my own right arm than take away your brother's name from his children." Ben murmured against his wife's ear as his arms enfolded her and drew her against his chest. "We'll just have to see if there's something else we can do." He could feel as well as hear Cassie draw in her breath before she turned in his arms to face him.
"Do you really mean that, Ben?" she asked anxiously, one of her hands cupping his cheek.
"Yes, Treasure, I do." he answered truthfully. Cassandra sighed and snuggled into her husband's body.
Now that the warmth had returned to the room, Mr. and Mrs. Cartwright had a good night's sleep...eventually.
BREAKFAST, ALAS, WAS destined not to be anywhere near as peaceful as the night before. The twins were still anxious because they would have to go to school and face Nathan Riley, the boy who could (and, likely, would) continue to taunt them with the fact that the twins were not Cartwrights. The more the duo plied Ben with hints and veiled questions about legally becoming Cartwrights, the more visibly upset Cassandra became.
The unlikely bearer of the straw that would break the camel's back was Hoss.
"Well, Pa," the big man said with a smile aimed at Gabe's anxious face, "I don't see why you can't just go get a judge to let you adopt—" The amiable cowboy got no further than this.
"I will not allow my brother's name to disappear!" Cassandra shouted furiously, then burst into tears and, leaping to her feet, ran into the kitchen. Eight of the nine people she'd left behind stared after her with rounded eyes—Ben's expression was anguished rather than surprised.
"What was that about?" Eve asked Rebecca, who blinked and then shrugged, mystified.
"I honestly don't know," the younger woman said. "I've never seen Mama this upset before."
"Yer Mama's not given to spells an' such?" asked Mother MacGruder, who was still looking thoughtfully in the direction that Cassie had gone.
"No, ma'am," Becky answered, earnestly shaking her head. "Mama's always been so level-headed...she's had to be, really, in order to get the way station started."
"I'd better go after her..." Ben said, getting to his feet. However, Elvira waved at him to stop.
"If ya'll pardon my sayin' so, Ben," she interrupted him, "But somethin' tells me that it's best if Becky, Eve an' me go. Ya stay here for a spell." Both Eve and Becky exchanged glances with raised eyebrows, but they got up and accompanied the paraplegic away from the breakfast table, passing a harried-looking Hop Sing on their way to the kitchen. Cassandra was sitting at the round table there, weeping into the arms she had folded and propped on the table in front of her.
"Mama!" Becky hurried forward. "What's this all about? Hoss has made a very sensible suggestion..."
"No!" Cassandra's voice was muffled as she didn't raise her head. "I won't bury Jason again! I won't!" Her adopted daughter gave Eve and Elvira a troubled glance and went to the older blond, putting an arm around Cassie's shoulders and murmuring comfort. Eve shifted, feeling like she really oughtn't be here, yet also wanted to ease the pain that Ben's wife was feeling.
"Cassandra Cartwright," Elvira said suddenly, "When was it ya last had yer monthlies?" The shock of the unexpected and rather bald question cut through the emotions lacing the room. Cassie's head lifted and she turned wide, watery gray eyes to Elvira.
"What?"
"When did ya last have yer monthlies?" Elvira repeated evenly. Consternation bloomed in Cassandra's face as she forced herself to think about the question.
"Well...um..." the woman with the silver-and-gold hair bit her lip as she considered the matter. Her entire trip to New Haven and back had been such a wonderful adventure that she hadn't noticed the fact that she hadn't had to assemble and use the usual stockpile of folded rags since...since...
"Before I left on my honeymoon," Cassandra admitted, blinking.
"So..." Elvira said, ticking off the points on her fingers as she spoke, "Ya ain't had yer monthlies since b'fore yer honeymoon, ya're still getting' sick even though yer man is over the food poisonin', ya're bein' all weepy and such—and yer blouse looks like it's gonna pop off if ya take a deep breath." All eyes went to the front of Cassandra's shirt, where—as Mother MacGruder so aptly described—the buttons strained to hold the upper part of the garment closed.
"Oh, my!" Eve breathed. Becky began to smile.
"Mama!" she said excitedly. "You're going to be a Mama!"
"I can't be!" Cassie gasped, her face paling. "I...I'm too old!"
"Woman," Elvira pointed out sagaciously, "If ya still get yer monthlies, then ya ain't 'too old'."
"But...but..." Cassie spluttered, unable to counter the older woman's logic. "...But...how do you know..? If I am...in that condition...it's not even two months since..." A wild and deep blush suffused Cassandra's face at the recollection of just when the child she was possibly carrying could have been conceived.
"I carried me eight children, Cassandra," Elvira told her firmly, "Six of 'em to a live birth...I know when a gal is in the family way." Eve's mother leaned forward and patted Cassie's hand. "Best thing for ya to do is to wait until yer next monthly is due...if what ya say is true, then it oughtta be startin' in another couple of weeks. If the time comes an' goes an' ya don't get your monthly this time around, then it means ya're carryin', and ya can tell Ben so. Meanwhile, we'll keep this to ourselves—no need to get yer man in an uproar if'n ya can't be sure about it yet."
"That sounds wise, Mama," Becky agreed, nodding. Cassandra looked up.
"Expecting or not," she said, her hands fisting on the table, "I still can't let Ben change your names, Rebecca—it would be like saying that your Pa didn't exist." Becky tilted her head.
"What did Uncle Ben say to you about that, Mama?" she asked.
"He...he offered to adopt you and the twins," Cassie answered. The younger blond considered this a moment, and then patted Cassie's hand.
"He doesn't have to do that." Becky pointed out. "It's Gabe and Naomi who are the ones most effected, Mama—so Uncle Ben should adopt them. Zach's twenty-one and doesn't really need adopting...and I've got a little more than two years until I'm twenty-one, too...but since I'd have to change my name when I get married anyway, I don't need to be adopted. That would leave Zach and me as Callahans."
"That makes a lot of sense," Eve opined with a nod. The eldest Mrs. Cartwright sat in her chair, blinking.
"Why didn't I think of that?" she asked out loud. "Instead, I was a weepy female!"
"It's the baby," Elvira answered. "An'...as it's yer first one, too...the changes the tyke brings about are gonna be doozies." Mother MacGruder eyed her daughter pointedly. "How about ya, Eve Jane..? Been feelin' weepy an' such of late?"
"No," the brunette said emphatically. "And I've had my monthly last week."
"Ya better hurry up, then, girl," Elvira drawled, a twinkle in her brown eyes. "Yer mama-in-law got a head start on ya."
THE FEMALES RETURNED from the kitchen, prompting the men at the table to get to their feet upon their re-entry into the dining area.
"Treasure, are you all right?" Ben's voice and expression were rife with concern. He was a bit confused but pleasantly surprised when his wife went to him and kissed his cheek.
"Yes, dear," she told him. "I was just...being emotional. Now...about what Hoss just said—" There was a tug at her skirt—as well as at the bottom of Ben's shirt—and the couple looked down on the anxious faces of the twins.
"Mama!" Gabe said soberly. "Me an' Naomi been talkin'...an' we don't want Uncle Ben to be our uncle any more." Both of the adults froze in shock.
"You don't?" Cassandra replied.
"No." Naomi spoke up. "We want him to be our Papa...just like you're our Mama. Please...please can we have him as our Papa? Please, Mama?" Ben—whose heart had been lanced with a swift, sharp pain when the twins first spoke of rejecting him as their uncle, now bloomed with fresh sorrow as he had already promised his wife that he would not be taking the Callahan name away from her late brother's children. He opened his mouth to dash the hopes shining in the faces of the children, but Cassandra's soft hand laid upon his arm.
"Yes, Gabriel and Naomi, you will have him for your Papa," she answered firmly. The twins whooped for joy and hugged both Ben and Cassie around the waist before hugging each other and then dancing around the room with glee. Cassandra turned to her awestruck husband.
"Becky pointed out that you can adopt the twins," she told him softly, "While Zach and Becky don't really need to be adopted themselves." Ben blinked and then nodded.
"This is true, Treasure," he agreed. "As long as it's something you feel comfortable with..?"
"I mourn the necessity of it," Cassie said honestly. "But...it's obvious that the children want you as their official...Papa...and, this way, the Callahan name goes on." Ben's hand captured her chin and he bent to brush his lips against hers.
"Thank you, Treasure," he said, smiling. "I'm looking forward to becoming an 'official Papa' very soon." The expression in her silver-gray eyes seemed to grow both contemplative and humorous at the same time.
"I'll be sure to hold you to that, Ben," she said in a way that made him wonder if Cassandra wasn't laughing at some private joke.
THE CÔTE D'AZUR was busy the evening that Hoss escorted Mercy into the restaurant, although he was a mass of conflicting emotions as he did so. On the one hand, Hoss was wondering if he was anywhere near good enough for her, and on the other hand, he was mighty glad that he had taken the time and trouble to work with the other members of his family to get ready for this very important date.
Becky had cut his hair. Mother MacGruder and Eve had made sure that he had a set of fancy-dress clothes to go to the restaurant in...a pair of pants and a jacket in dark gray wool, with a white shirt and a brocade vest of cobalt blue that everyone told him set off his eyes very nicely. Cassandra had made sure that Hoss' string tie was tied properly.
"There you go, Hoss!" she beamed at him. "Take a look in the mirror and see for yourself how dashing you are." She stepped aside and Hoss stared into the cheval mirror there: a tall, fancy-dress stranger stared back at him.
"I tried to make sure that your collar was starched but not too stiff, Hoss," Eve told him.
"I think it's fine, JJ...uh, I mean, Eve," Hoss replied. "It's just that I'm a mite...nervous about tonight."
"Don't be," his best friend since their days at primary school assured him. "Miss Harris is already sweet on you...I can't imagine her refusing you now."
"Not with them shiny boots, she's not!" Naomi pointed out the twins' contribution to making Hoss look especially nice this evening. The middle Cartwright brother smiled.
"Now that you mention it, Naomi," he said earnestly, "I think you're right." Hoss kept firm control of his nervousness on the trip to Virginia City, feeling rather proud of himself for not giving in to the nigh-overwhelming urge to get sick and turn tail. Instead, he marched up to the front door of Mercy's little house and knocked on the door, clutching a bouquet of buttery-yellow primroses in one hand. The door opened.
"Good evening, Hoss," Mercy greeted him.
"Good evenin', M..." The big man found that the power of speech had deserted him as he stared at the picture the schoolmarm made in the doorway.
Mercy was wearing a gown that was the same emerald shade as her eyes. Hoss couldn't help but notice that her shoulders and most of her arms were bared by the material, nor did he miss the fact that there were pearls at the base of her throat as well as dangling from her ears. She smiled, her eyes dropping to the bouquet of flowers he was holding.
"Oh, Hoss—are those for me?" Mercy asked. Hoss blinked and then held out the flowers.
"Yes, they are."
"Thank you," she said brightly as she took them. "I'll be just a moment." She closed the door and left Hoss fidgeting on her tiny front porch. All he could think was that Mercy looked like a fairytale princess and how could he even be thinking she would seriously entertain his offer for her hand in marriage..? She'd answered the door wearing pearls—pearls that meant she was a lady of means and refinement who couldn't possibly be at all interested in him. It wasn't too late—Hoss could just trot over to the surrey and hop in, then whip the horses into a dead run and get out of Virginia City before his heart got stomped on...
"I'm ready, Hoss," Mercy's voice sounded next to him and he looked again, startled because his panicked imagination had made the middle Cartwright son unaware that she'd returned. Hoss blinked, noticing that Mercy had added a few things to her ensemble: a black shoulder cape, a pair of elbow-length gloves...and a primrose to either side of the glossy raven chignon her hair had been styled into.
"You don't think the flowers are too much, do you, Hoss?" she asked a bit nervously. "Once I saw them, I felt they were just the thing to go with my gown..." Hoss stared at the lovely young lady, realizing with that she obviously was as anxious about their upcoming dinner as he was. That knowledge did more to make him relax than all of his family's pep talk earlier.
"Maybe I should go back and remove them..?" Mercy said, taking a step back to do just that. Hoss shook his head vehemently.
"Oh, no, Mercy," he assured her. "You look fine, pretty as a picture, really...I can't help looking at you...an' feeling proud you used the flowers I brought you this way." The teacher smiled up at him and Hoss offered her his arm.
"Now, Miss Harris, if you'll most kindly allow me to escort you to dinner..?"
"Why, thank you, Mr. Cartwright," she answered, taking his arm, "I'm most obliged."
The ride to the restaurant was magical and the interior of the place was as romantic as Hoss could hope for...however, the spell was broken the moment Hoss opened the menu—for the entire listing was written in extra-fancy script with a lot of added squiggly marks and misspelled words that didn't make a lot of sense to him. He signaled to the waiter.
"You'd think a place as fancy as this would know to spell out their menu in proper English," Hoss complained to the man with a frown. The red-jacketed man with the pencil mustache lifted a haughty eyebrow.
"The Côte D'Azur is a French restaurant, sir," he said with a condescending sniff and a decidedly non-American accent. "Naturellement, the language in the menu would be French, and not English." Hoss' face began to burn in embarrassment. However, Mercy glared at the snooty waiter.
"Then you would do well to remind the proprietors of the establishment that it is the height of discourtesy not to provide an English translation of the menu if they plan to operate their restaurant in an English-speaking region," she said icily, then added: "Aussi bien qu'employer les serveurs grossiers, s'il vous plaît." Upon hearing Mercy rattle off that last sentence, the snooty waiter paled.
"We'll have two orders of your best steak, potatoes and whatever vegetables you have to go with that," Hoss ordered. "And a bottle of your finest wine." The waiter nodded and left after collecting the menus from the couple seated at the table.
"Mercy—was that French you spoke?" Hoss asked her. "What did you say to him?" The young lady flushed a bit.
"Yes, it was French," she admitted. "And I told him that he could tell his bosses that I thought they were employing extremely rude waiters." The sandy-haired man with her smiled and enjoyed the rest of the evening with the French-speaking schoolmarm.
On the ride back to her house, Hoss rehearsed in his head exactly what he was going to say and how he would say it. He pulled the surrey to a stop in front Mercy's house, set the brake and went around to her side of the vehicle to help her down. Hoss looked up at her as she bent and offered her hand to him and completely forgot what he was going to say. Instead, he reached up and, putting his hands on either side of her waist, plucked her up from the surrey. He slowly turned to one side as he held her aloft, his eyes roving her face, which held a mixture of surprise...and delight.
"Hoss Cartwright!" Mercy chided him breathlessly. "You put me down this instant! What if somebody saw us?" For all that she was obviously taking the man to task, however, the young woman's smile didn't dim.
"Mercy..." Hoss rasped, lowering her to the ground but not relinquishing his grip on her waist, "...I'd be honored if you'd marry me." Beneath his hands, Hoss felt Mercy suddenly stiffen. The entire world held its breath waiting on the outcome of her response...
"BECKY..." JOE'S VOICE thinly veiled his impatience. The blond looked at him.
"What?"
"It's your move," he reminded her. Rebecca looked down at the checkerboard.
"Oh...sorry..." she replied, then pushed one of her pieces to a square.
"That's the hundredth time you've glanced at the clock," Joe noted. "You're not going to make it go any faster by staring at it." The youngest Cartwright brother eyed the game board and jumped the piece that Becky had just moved and leaned back to smirk at her. "That should teach you to keep your mind on your game."
"You can't pretend that you're not every bit as anxious as I am to find out about Hoss," the young woman said with a defensive pout.
"Sure I am," Joe conceded, "But I'm a man—I have the ability to stay level-headed and keep my mind on what I'm doing...unlike a flighty-minded female." Becky's response was to raise one eyebrow, lift her right hand...and then use it to move one of her checkers so that she jumped the piece that Joe had just moved—as well as three others.
"King me," she said, her sapphire eyes glowing with humor as Joe gaped down at the board. Adam, Eve and Mother MacGruder chuckled at the brunet man's chagrin. Ben and Cassandra were speaking softly to each other and not paying attention, or Joe was certain that his father would have had something to say about Joe speaking far too soon—as it was, the hovering Hop Sing snorted and shook his head. Joe crowned Becky's checker piece with a surly grace.
"All right, all right—so maybe I'm a bit...distracted," he admitted. Adam shifted his attention back to the book he was reading, while Eve continued to hold up the yarn her mother was winding into a ball.
"We're all eager to find out about Hoss, Joe," Eve pointed out. She would have continued on with more, only the front door opened up and the object of everyone's curiosity came into the house. All eyes turned to watch the big man as he divested himself of his gunbelt before turning a somber face towards his family. Immediately Cassandra was on her feet, prompting Ben, Adam and Joe to get up, too.
"Hoss...Hoss, what happened..?" the silvered blond asked her stepson gently. Hoss heaved a huge sigh.
"Mercy wouldn't agree to a July wedding..." he admitted dolefully. Dismay rippled through the gathered family members, who were now all moving toward Hoss. Suddenly a sly grin split his cherubic face.
"She wants it on June the twenty-seventh...the day after the last day of the school year," he confessed triumphantly. There was a moment of silence that was shattered by Joe's celebratory whoop of glee, and then everyone in the room crowded around Hoss, tendering their congratulations along with hugs, handshakes and/or slaps on the back.