The Haircut
Or,
A Day in Town

Part 7 - Epilogue
by BeckyS
This story is written for pleasure, not profit.
The Cartwrights and the general circumstances belong to Bonanza Ventures.
Otherwise, © as allowable, May 2004


Adam Cartwright slipped out of the door to his bedroom and down the steps to the great room, with sure skill avoiding the steps that squeaked, but he was too late. His father was coming out of the kitchen, coffee in hand, one eyebrow raised up in surprise.

"Where are you going? It's only an hour 'til dinner. And why are you wearing your hat in the house? I thought I taught you better than that."

Adam ignored the second question in favor of the easier first. "I'm headed out to have a good look at the Spooner Lake pasture and the south range, like we talked about this morning, and I'll check the line shacks, then do a little hunting. It'll take me a week and a half, maybe two weeks."

Ben set his cup down on the table with a hard clink and stared at his eldest. "That all needs to be done, but not right away. Hop Sing is making roast pork."

His stomach grumbled in protest and he almost gave up his plans, but his first move, to remove his hat, halted him in his tracks. "Uh, no, that's all right. I'll just get going now — be most of the way to the lake by dark."

"Adam," Ben chided, "I appreciate your dedication, but you can leave tomorrow. I know you like to have some time to yourself, I appreciate that, but at least stay and have dinner with us."

He shifted the saddlebags on his shoulder, hoping this wouldn't escalate into a battle. "Thanks, Pa, but I have enough supplies, and I want to get an early start."

"Early!" Ben was about to say more when Joe's voice interrupted.

"Pa, he wants to go."

Ben turned to his youngest, who'd followed him from the kitchen. "Joseph, this is between your brother and me."

Hoss came downstairs at that moment and grabbed up an apple from the coffee table. "Hey, Adam, it's dinnertime, where you goin'?"

"Nowhere, tonight," Ben growled.

Hoss turned to his father. "Sure looks like he's goin' someplace, Pa."

Joe tugged on his father's arm. "He's gotta go, Pa; let him, please?"

Adam took advantage of the distraction and grabbed his holster from the sideboard by the door. He didn't bother to put it on; just slung it over his shoulder as well and grabbed the door.

"Adam!" Ben called, rounding the corner from the dining room and towing Little Joe, who had a death grip on his arm.

"Let him go, Pa," Joe insisted.

"I'll stop by in a few days, Pa, or else send word where I am." He slipped through the door, grateful that his father was occupied with Joe, and grateful, as well, to his little brother. Then he was out the door.

He heard it open again behind him, but then a sudden gust of wind kicked up and grabbed at his hat. Laden by his equipment, he wasn't fast enough and it blew to the ground. He dropped his bedroll to scoop it up and seated it even more firmly, but, face flaming, realized he hadn't been quick enough. The voices on the porch had stopped abruptly

He hurried across the yard to the barn, muttering about mis-educated young boys who just couldn't quite get Bible stories right. He froze when a burst of laughter rang out, then straightened and, with every ounce of dignity he could muster, headed for the barn.

His only consolation came as he passed through the door — oh, yes, that long, stretched out "Jo-seph?" He knew the sound well. And with a smile that recognized that his little brother would have a few bad moments but also would, eventually, be able to explain, he headed out for the mountains and two peaceful weeks — bald but peaceful — on his own.

THE END