Chapter 4
Ben rode into the door yard of his home on the driver's seat of the chuck wagon at noon, two days after the Founder's Day activities had been completed in Virginia City. Much as he had wanted to attend that year, his circumstances had kept him from it, and would have made it a miserable celebration anyway. He'd taken to riding with one leg crossed over the other to ease the pain in his...wound. The time in Silver Peak had done him some good, both to ease the physical pain, and the irritation at the immaturity of his son. In all honesty, Little Joe hadn't been the culprit to shoot him, and it certainly hadn't been intentional. Neither he, nor Clyde, could have known that the rock on which they had put their shooting targets was at a perfect angle to send an arrow into precisely the same spot every time. If Ben had a taller horse he'd have escaped harm. A smaller horse might have killed him.
In the end, he'd suffered only a flesh wound, awkward and painful as it was, and given time his anger at his son would heal as well. Hoss' gracious nature had been a balm, and knowing that the cattle had arrived safely, the hands had been paid, and he would never have to see or hear from Clyde again, helped a great deal.
Ben sat on the chuck wagon and smiled up at the barn. With the coat of fresh paint the barn somehow looked brand new, bigger even than it had been before, and taller. He noticed the new shingles over the kitchen roof, and the fresh coat of paint on the bunk house. The corrals and fences had looked pristine on his ride in and he couldn't be prouder of his eldest son for the work he'd accomplished while they were gone.
"Adam!" He called, standing carefully and easing down to the ground. Ben pulled his saddle bags from the foot of the wagon seat, eager to show his son the things they had gotten from the Navajo. Ben walked to the heads of the horses and walked them into the barn, overwhelmed by the smell of fresh timber. He searched the interior and noted some improvements that Adam had made, including a new loft and new stalls.
"Well done, my boy." Ben said to himself, beaming with pride. He looked after the horses, giving them the good rub down they deserved. He was halfway through when Bucky, one of the new hands, walked into the barn whistling.
"Bucky!" Ben shouted, happily. Bucky froze, eyed the chuck wagon and the horses and the big boss, then dropped the curry combs he'd been carrying and took off at a dead run.
Ben had known that Bucky was a little peculiar, if only young, and he laughed at the response, shaking his head. He went back to the horse he was tending, listening to the distant sounds of voices in the bunkhouse, horses whickering in the pasture, the wind bustling through the trees. Ben glanced out the other end of the barn and blinked at the sight of sweeping pasture land below the rise on which the homestead sat.
The sight immediately told him something was wrong, but he wasn't sure what in particular. Ben stepped to the door, admitting cautiously to himself that the view was astonishing, but not able to explain why he could suddenly see it. He looked to the ground and saw white washed rocks circling a bed of tilled earth. They'd never had a garden on this side of the barn, he thought. When he got close enough to read the small signs that marked each row he realized that Adam had created a tree nursery. The trees that were most common on the Ponderosa were sprouting in neat rows.
As they grew they would need to be replanted further apart, but the protected patch of soil seemed like the perfect place to sire seedlings. Ben wondered at what might have happened to the patch of timber that had been behind the barn. His eyes were drawn up to the new, bigger loft and he thought, perhaps Adam had seen fit to use some of it for his expansion projects. But that didn't account for the cords-worth of wood that had once stood behind the barn.
Ben finished stabling the horses and walked out into the yard, taking another deep breath of the air that he had worked his life to lay claim to. He headed for the house with powerful strides, feeling stronger and more sure than he had in days. He stopped on the porch when a haggard, pale Adam opened the door, eyes closed tightly against the sun. His shirt hung open over a pair of hastily belted pants, and his feet were bare. One of his arms was in a sling, and he moved with the stiffness of a man three times his age.
He gave his father a slurred, "Hey Pa.", as if he'd just rolled out of bed, and Ben caught sight of Bucky peering out from behind Adam's shoulder before the door closed softly behind his eldest son. Adam's free hand went to the small of his back as he carefully paced to the table and chairs under the overhang. Adam sat in increments, pressing finger and thumb to the bridge of his nose before he waved vaguely in the direction of the kitchen.
"Hop Sing'll...have the tea out in a minute."
Ben moved to the porch and set his bags down. On closer inspection he could see that some of Adam's hair was missing just over his ear, there were knicks and cuts all over his face and chest, and he hadn't shaved in two days. Under the folds of the shirt he could see the outlines of bandages wrapped around his ribs. Even as he sat, head resting on his hand, Adam was falling asleep.
"Adam? Son...are you alright?"
Adam drew a breath in through his nose and sighed. "Sure.." he said, nodding drowsily. "Sure." The second word came out as a whisper, but Adam rallied, leaning back in the chair and blinking his eyes open a little wider. "Have a seat, Pa." Adam gestured to one of the chairs and Ben cleared his throat softly, then gingerly moved to the chair indicated and sat carefully on it.
Adam watched him, his face blank such that Ben wasn't sure how much was actually registering. He would have said that Adam seemed drunk, except that he smelled no alcohol on him. It might have been a pain killer then, and given how beat up Adam looked, Ben found himself grateful that someone had seen fit to drug the poor boy.
"Adam...what in the world happened to you?"
"Founder's Day." Adam responded with a muted growl. He shifted in the chair until he could put his feet up on the seat opposite him, fiddled with the sling on his arm until the limb was resting comfortably then yawned. The yawn stretched a bruise forming on his jaw and Adam winced and groaned softly, feeling the tender area.
Ben winced sympathetically. "Are you well enough to tell me about it?"
Adam cocked his head to the side a little and said, "Have you ever had one of those days that starts out like Easter morning, and ends like Hallow's Eve?"
Ben grinned softly, crossing his arms. He chuckled and nodded, thinking he'd had more than a few of them on this cattle drive alone.
Adam yawned again, his fingers coming down on the table top to tic off an imaginary list. "I judged the pie eating contest this year."
"Oh!" Ben said, nodding, "And?"
"And I wasn't told until after it had begun that the theme for pies this year would be mincemeat." Adam turned away from the stifled laugh that Ben had tried to hide behind his hand. "Not all of them were cooked as thoroughly as they should have been." Ben managed to control his laughter after a moment.
"Go on, son."
"I judged the roping contest…" Adam said, "And that was going well enough until Jigger Thurman came into town with-"
"Oh no!" Ben shouted, jolting forward in his chair, and onto his wound, and jumping like he'd been bit. Through his teeth, Ben said, "Not his bull."
"With his prize bull. We managed to get him into the corral this time and Jimmy Carnes tried to take him on."
"Oh no." Ben breathed.
"It took four of us to get him out of the corral. Jimmy, that is. The bull is still in town." Adam shifted, winced, rubbed his hand over his ribs then continued. "And then I judged the rock breaking contest. Bucky and the boys and I had gone ahead and bored the starter holes first thing in the morning, and we left them until the contest started in the afternoon."
Adam bared his teeth, as he growled, "Tommy Bolt and his string of young brothers saw fit to saw some sticks of dynamite into little pieces and drop them down the bore holes." Ben's face went blank, his jaw hanging open in shock. "Nobody was killed, thank goodness, but they'll be picking shards of rock out of the walls of the bank for years."
"There were at least two brawls, one attempted lynching after the horse race, and three women had their babies on main street." Adam sighed. "And that was Founder's Day."
Ben patted his boy's hand then leaned back as Hop Sing came out onto the porch, beaming with a tray carrying tea service. Ben smiled at the tea, milk, sugar and tea cakes, then realized that the china under it was alien to him. "New china?" He asked.
Adam, who had been reaching for the pot to pour paused with his mouth hanging open for a second before he smiled. "Yes...new china."
Ben lifted a plate and looked at the design. "Very handsome. Must have cost a pretty penny."
"You have no idea, Pa."
"I like the barn. Looks brand new."
Adam put a cup in front of Ben, then filled his own, not commenting for a long moment before he tucked his chin to his chest and admitted, "It is."
"I'm sorry."
Adam leaned back in his chair. "The barn IS brand new." He admitted, using his bad hand to hold the saucer and drinking most of the tea in his cup in one gulp. His father was quiet for a very long time but for the gentle chime of his cup against the saucer. When the saucer came down on the table with a soft thud, Adam braved meeting his father's gaze.
"I think you'd better explain, Adam."
Adam did. His father sat quietly, legs crossed, hands clasped, listening to Adam's tale the way he listened to the sermons on Sunday. He nodded his head from time to time, resting his chin in his hand with a finger laid over his lips in thought. Adam caught a few smirks, a handful of stifled chuckles. He explained why the trees behind the barn were gone, why there was now a double pulley system over the loft door. He explained the new fencing posts, the new wall to the bunk house, the new china. By the time he was done both Cartwrights were laughing, and Ben had found himself all the more impressed and proud of his oldest boy.
"I'm truly sorry you had so much trouble, Adam, but you've come out ahead, I think."
"In everything but my pocket book." Adam said wryly, and he grinned at his father. "Now, I know that your cattle drive couldn't have been as uncomplicated as you made it out to be."
Ben tucked his chin and mumbled agreement, even as he was shaking his head. "Anywhere your brother Joseph goes, trouble seems to follow." Ben thought a moment, then tilted his head. "No..it's not just Joe." He admitted. "I suppose all of us have attracted our fair share over the years. Still...he manages to put himself in the middle of it most of the time, doesn't he?"
Feeling vindicated of his crimes, Adam sighed softly and bit into one of Hop Sing's tea cakes.
"Where is your brother?"
Adam savored the cake then answered the question. "He and Hoss spent the morning splitting and stacking wood, then headed into town. Joe said something about getting something for...for your wound." Adam said, carefully.
Ben's face colored behind the cup, and when he set it down he was gritting his teeth. "You may need to be a witness in a murder trial soon, Adam."
"Filicide is a dreadful crime, Pa." Adam said.
"But...necessary, Adam. But necessary."
They both chuckled softly to the sound of a wagon creaking and chiming beyond the barn. Adam suspected that Hoss had smelled the tea cakes, as improbable as it seemed, and was rewarded with a delighted grin on Hoss' face when the wagon rounded the corner and he saw what was on the table. Joe cast a grin to his brother before guiding the horses to a halt. Once the brake was set both men jumped down from the wagon and loped to the porch to welcome their father home.
They exchanged a few pleasantries before Joe turned back to the wagon and Hoss took off his hat, sitting down on the chair where Adam's feet had been.
Hoss turned to shout for Hop Sing but the grinning man was already coming out of the kitchen with a second pot of tea and a pile of cakes. "I hear you coming Hoss." Hop Sing sang.
"I can't tell you how much I missed that man, Pa." Hoss said, happily accepting the second round. Joe joined them a moment later holding a square package that had been wrapped in brown paper and tied in a bright blue ribbon.
"This...this is for you, Pa." Joe said, remaining on his feet and belatedly taking off his hat.
Ben gave Joe a look before he took the package and untied the ribbon. "I get the feeling this didn't come from the mercantile." He said graciously.
"No...Miss Eddie Maye made it...she and her sewing circle."
Ben unwrapped the package and found he was now in possession of a large, plump satin pillow. The colors would easily match the furniture in the main room, and while he could already feel his...wound aching for the comfort of the extra padding, Ben still hadn't determined if his pride would let him use it.
"Turn it over, Pa." Joe urged and Ben turned the pillow to see a quote neatly stitched into the other side. Ben read it, the smile spreading unhindered across his face. He laughed then stood and embraced his son. "A fine gift." He said.
"I really am sorry, Pa." Joe added and Ben squeezed his shoulder.
"Here you are, Adam." Ben said, handing the pillow to his eldest who read it, smirked, then wiped his mouth, cleared his throat and began to orate with exaggerated volume, trilling his R's and holding the pillow aloft.
"From the immortal bard…" He began, bowing slightly at the applause from Hoss. "To be...or not to be, gentlemen. That is the question. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take up arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them?"
The recitation of the soliloquy from Hamlet continued to echo across the yard, punctuated by laughter and applause. Ben looked over the barn and the bunk house. He looked over his sons and ran his fingers over the etching on the new china. It wasn't perfect, and things hadn't gone as well as they could have, but Ben wouldn't have had it any other way.