Chapter

Out of Options

Ben was in town the following morning. After dropping the sulking boy, who didn't say more than two words to him the entire way, off at school; he stopped off at the old widow Flachmeyer's. She had watched Joe and Hoss a few years back- this was while her husband was still alive- and had returned the boys none too pleased with their antics. Apparently, the boys had caught a lizard and let it loose in her kitchen. Hoss claims to this day that it accidentally got away from him. She just knew it were done spitefully. With Joe laughing the entire time at her frantic screams for them to 'get it' and her comical attempts to avoid it as she parried around the kitchen while Hoss ran around her trying to catch it only to scare the lizard into running to her for safety.

He was naturally angry with the boys as she told the story as if it was some great exploit she endured. Scorning Joe especially, for making the situation worse than it needed to be. That was until he discovered that Mister Flachmeyer was in the kitchen right next to Joe laughing at his wife's expense. Those two were on complete ends of the spectrum. Mister Flachmeyer was a man who grew old but never grew up. Somehow, they made it work. As complete opposites as they might be it was as if Mister Flachmeyer brought light into that woman's frosty heart. She was too proud to admit that that was why she loved him. He remained the jovial type up to his last days.

When her husband died the following year, it seemed he took a bit of this world with him. Most noticeably was his lily garden which he prided himself in. After he died, Misses Flachmeyer had neglected to care for them and as a result it didn't take too long for them to go. The dead remnants patched both sides of the walkway that led on up to the front door. This was but an outward reflection of what was going on inside the dark house and more so inside her darkened heart. It seems that Mister Flachmeyer took a piece of his wife with him too. She gave herself little more care than those flowers.

Joe was right. She did smell. It wasn't just she that smelled. Her whole house did. Ben realized from the moment in which she opened the door and a rush of air assaulted him, so that he could whiff the foul odor. It was something like food rot and stale air. The woman whom was embittered when her husband lived was all the more after his death. Truthfully Ben had some guilt over having to ask her, believing Joe would spend the entire time in utter misery, imagining what it would have been like if it were he as a child, but his options were limited. Maybe they would be good for each other, he thought in a vain effort to convince himself.

"I'm just not in a place right now that I can take on a child." She answered.

"It would only be for five weeks. He could help with chores. Perhaps clean out your garden."

"Let me tell you Mister Cartwright, five weeks ain't no picnic." He was hurt at her decline and yet simultaneously relieved, for Joe's sake. She was a long shot anyways but Ben was getting desperate now. Ben left deflated. What was he to do?

~.~

A few days had gone by. They were finishing their other tasks in good time so they stuck to their plans to greet their new neighbor and sit over a hot meal.

"Mr. Tomlinson." Ben greeted as Tomlinson met them at the door.

"Ben. Nice to finally meet you." He returned, nervously tucking in his shirt before extending his hand. "I've heard quite a lot about you and what kind of enterprise you have going on out here."

"All good, I hope." Ben responded to which Tomlinson smiled.

"If it weren't, I wouldn't be here." Ben was intrigued, believing that there was a story to tell here.

They were assured that the meal would be provided for so Ben's only contribution was an unsolicited but customary bottle of wine, which he offered over.

"Oh, thank you." Tomlinson took it but assured. "You didn't have to do that." Which was also a part of the cordial dance.

"How is your son?"

"Oh, he's fine. He's taken worse scrapes than that. You know boys."

"I certainly do." Ben chuckled.

"Joe, it's good to see you again."

"Howdy, Mr. Tomlinson."

"Scotty's up in his room if you want to see him." He indicated the staircase behind him. Adam who stood at Joe's side looked down at him.

"Why don't you go up and play with Scotty?" Joe bit his cheek. He was well accustomed with this brush off. He knew they were just trying to get rid of him. Appeasing the men, he left without argument leaving them to talk and went up the stairs.

~.~

"Hey," He said walking into the room. Scotty was busying himself by looking over his own dresser and moving the ornaments around on top. A ballerina music dancer, a mahogany jewelry box, a silver-plated hand mirror and an ivory hairbrush adorned the top. At first glance, it might have appeared as if he was playing with them, but he wasn't. He moved one and then another, then grabbed his brush and moved that. Each move wasn't a great one. A few millimeters to the right. A few less back. The music box drawn forward barely noticeable. The hairbrush, a hair to the center and given a slight angle. They had just moved in. It appeared to Joe that he hadn't fully set up his room yet and was in the process of doing that now.

His room had yellow walls and a dark brown trim around the window and door. It was dark now as the only light came through from down stairs other than the moon and stars from outside. His dresser was white and four feet tall which was just above Scotty's head by six inches or so. A wardrobe type closet set off the wall by the door. His bed had a white porcelain looking frame, kind of like what you might find in a girl's room. A white comforter lay atop white bed sheets. The only dash of color came from a green knitted blanket that lay atop the coverings.

Aside from the clothes Joe imagined were in his drawers, his bed linen, and the few items on top his dresser; there didn't seem to be much else here.

"Don't you have any toys?" The child didn't respond. Joe sighed as he glanced around the room. "You don't say much, do you?"

~.~

Tomlinson had the table set when they'd first arrived but it took twenty minutes more to get the meal on the table. The men were entertained with the wine they brought as they waited. It was too long as far as Joe was concerned. He had a large appetite and was running on empty when it came to trying to entertain a kid who didn't talk back. They were finally called down and took their seats with the rest, getting to know each other over well-seasoned lamb chops and baked potatoes.

After a bit of small talk which started with the wine, Tomlinson led the conversation.

"By combining the shape and style of the Wellington Boot with Boyden's patent leather The shoe has a cleaner look but can stand up to harsh conditions."

"I'd hate to break it to you but I'm afraid you're selling to the wrong market. This place is made up mostly of miners and cowhands."

"I know. That's why I'm here." He could see they still needed convincing. "I worked on the east coast. My main clientele were nothing but pompous, arrogant aristocrats. I never really felt fulfilled, you know. I asked myself one day, why that was? Why did I feel no satisfaction in my life? Like my talents were going to waste. It finally dawned on me. It was because, the ones who were wearing the shoes weren't the ones who really needed them. Now the working man. Those guys out there sweating in coal mines, or trudging through mud, wrestling cattle. Doing it in shoes with toes sticking out at the end. Soles wearing out. Blisters on their toes and heels, leading to callouses, depleting their work hours, and that's at best. The more serious of them, the ones whose ailments go without treatment, without fixing the problem; those are the conditions that can lead to sicknesses, amputation and even death. Now them, these are the guys who need it the most."

"The quality you claim to be able to provide, I fear would be too expensive for the budget of your target market."

"That's the beauty of it. By using locally grown products, I could drop down the price dramatically to something they can afford. These shoes would not only be of better quality, but they'd be more obtainable to the working man. I would use your leather, Mr. Cartwright."

"Most of my stock travels hundreds of miles to find a market. Which means you would have to import the leather back in."

"Most, Mr. Cartwright, but not all. What you sell here in the local market, would be more than sufficient."

"What the people eat, the people wear." Adam adduced sagaciously.

"Sustenance for their stomachs. Sustainability for their feet." Tomlinson answered.

"The coating you're talking about." Adam leant forward putting in his input. "Isn't that made from linseed oil?"

"That's correct."

"But Linseed doesn't grow in these parts."

"Not yet. This I brought over myself. I'm going to have my own crop of Flaxseed."

"You're going to farm and build shoes. Those are two mighty big tasks to take on alone."

"In time, when the crop gets established, I plan on hiring a team to do the work, tend the field. In the meantime, with it just being me and my son and a pocket full of cash, I'm afraid it will be some time still before it really takes off. No worries though. I bought plenty of supplies from the east to help me stay busy until then."

"Mr. Tomlinson, you seem like a pretty ambitious character. I admire that in a man."

"So, you think you'd be interested in striking a deal on leather?"

"I think we could arrange something."

"You know, Mr. Cartwright, I'm also looking for investors. Perhaps that might also be something that you'd be interested in?" Ben breathed out a contemplative sigh.

"I didn't get this far in life by being cavalier with money."

"Oh, I'd bet on that, but I can assure you, an investment such as this, I believe would be in your best interest."

"It's too soon to tell. Now, I'm not saying no." Ben mollified as Paul prepared to make his case. "Unfortunately, I have an upcoming drive which is currently demanding all my attention. When we come back, I believe I could sit down and take a closer look at your product."

"You won't have to wait until then. I'd like to show you how well my product works. Simply looking at them won't be enough. How many men do you have on your crew?"

"We're looking at an eleven-man team."

"Give me their shoe sizes. I want all eleven to be the first out here to test my product."

"That's a lot of shoes. I can't do that."

"No, I want to."

"A man who's barely starting out and trying to get established can't afford a bold move like this."

"I'll tell you what. If at the end of your drive you like my product and decide they are worth purchasing, you can buy them then. If you're not completely satisfied, then you give the shoes back. No harm no foul."

"We give you back 11 completely worn boots with no strings attached?"

"That's right. No questions asked." Ben thought to himself. He's claiming this now. He may even believe this, but it is rarely this easy. "But I don't think you'll do this. I think you'll find yourself completely satisfied with the boots. This is how much I believe in my product."

"I'll tell you what. I'll buy your boots. All eleven pairs. If I'm not happy with them, I'll return them." He said this to appease him, knowing full well that he couldn't find it in himself to return any pair after such wear from a cattle drive.

"And if you are happy with them, just continue to wear them and if people ask where you got them, tell them it's a genuine Paul Tomlinson." They shared smiles at his eloquence.

"If you could really do what you're claiming and offer them at a lower price, Lord knows we could use something like that out here. I'd be happy to do my part."

"I can assure you Mr. Cartwright, you will not be disappointed."

Hoss and Joe had little to add to the conversation and therefore said few words and mostly to each other. Scotty having no one to talk to spent the entire meal in silence, barely looking up from his plate.

~.~

"So, you had fun with Scotty." Adam commented as they rode home on full stomachs. Joe returned a wry look. "What? You didn't have fun? You sure spent a lot of time up there for somebody that didn't have fun."

"You told me to go play with him so I did. I tried to, anyways."

"Did something happen?"

"That's an overstatement. Nothing happened. Absolutely nothing. He spent the entire time arranging his room."

"Well, they did just move in. The kids excited is all."

"That kid is not excited. That kid is far from excited. He's the opposite of excited. That kid wouldn't know what excited meant if it bit him on his bottom-side."

"Joe!" His pa admonished from the driver seat. Joe curbed his words.

~.~

They continued their conversation the next morning over sausages.

"We've arranged for a little playdate."

"Oh great."

"It wouldn't kill you to be nice."

"I am being nice. The kid is weird, is all."

"That's not nice."

"How's he weird?"

"He just don't say much."

"He's shy. He just needs some time to open up. He'll open up once he starts to feel comfortable." His pa said.

"He could use a few friends. You know, it's not easy being the new kid." Adam remarked, speaking from experience. Joe was born here. Adam on the other hand arrived here when he was a boy as young as the Tomlinson kid. He knew what it was like being the new kid and having to make friends.

"He's just different, that's all." Their pa explained. "There's all kinds of different people in this world. That's what makes us all special. There's tall ones and short ones and big ones and small." Why did it seem that his pa was comparing he and Hoss when he said this? Hoss was prideful with the accolade. Joe was annoyed.

"There's some that smell and some that don't." Hoss teased throwing Joe's words back at him, only reminding him of the old lady they wanted to stick him with for five weeks. Ben wasn't very happy with Hoss and his banter right now, turning a teaching moment into a joke. "There's also loud ones and quiet ones."

"Hoss, I think he gets the idea."

"Well, that don't make him any more fun to play with." Joe responded sullen.

"Maybe you could learn a little something from Scotty." Hoss jousted. "You know it couldn't hurt saying a little less yourself." Joe responded with a flying biscuit.

"Joe." His father admonished. "No playing at the table." His middle brother smirked at Joe's derision. He thinks he won this.

~.~

School had let out for the summer. Over the next week the Cartwright's had spent more time with the Tomlinson's. Sometimes the Tomlinson's would visit them and other times the Cartwright's would head over to their neighbors. Nearly every day they met up. Joe and Scotty would get off by themselves while the men talked business. They talked about shoes. They talked about cropping. They talked about bovine and steers and cattle drives. They talked about what it would take to open a store in town. They talked about the populous of miners and cattlemen which built this town with their blood and sweat and the lawyers and business men who built this town with their money.

As annoyed as Joe was at being pushed off on this kid, he figured it would be less fun being a part of their grownup conversations. Besides, this kid didn't seem too bad after all. He was a nice kid, just quiet. On a particularly beautiful afternoon the men conversed at the table as the boys meandered outside.

"Oh, since I have you here. You're going to market soon. I have a few steers I'm looking to offload. Six total. I brought them over here in the migration and now that I'm here I have no more need of them. They're open to you for a cheap price if you want them. No pressure though. If you don't want them, I'll find another buyer, I have no doubt. I just thought I'd offer them to you first. After all you've done for us."

"Well, we haven't done anything yet."

"Your boy has done a lot for us. After stepping in to defend my son from that ruffian, I owe him a lot." They all looked to Joe through the front window, swelling with pride. The two youngest conversed in the courtyard. They did seem to be warming up to each other. At least Tomlinson thought so which he commented on. The others couldn't help but agree. He went right back into discussing his enterprise.

"Plus, I'm expecting great things from you Mr. Cartwright. I think we can become good friends."

~.~

"Where's your ma?" Joe asked the small one to which the boy shrugged.

"That's okay. I don't have one either."

Joe found in this kid a warm air. He clung on to that. Even if he didn't talk, he was still pleasant to be around. It was less and less awkward each time as Joe grew into the role of being the one to carry a conversation through and at times when he found himself with nothing to say, he found that was okay too. He learned to be comfortable in just sitting there with this kid in silence.

~.~

The following afternoon, Hoss, had been sitting in the green Windsor practicing his honda knot in anticipation of the drive ahead. Ben was at his desk scanning through figures.

"What did Mrs. Stalnaker say?" The patriarch asked as his oldest walked through the door, without even waiting for the young man to remove his jacket and gun belt.

"She's willing to do it."

"Really?"

"Yup."

"That's great." He praised.

"I nixed it."

"You did what?" There was a gravel in Ben's voice now.

"Mister Stalnaker came in as I was drinking tea with Misses Stalnaker." He explained. "He was all too eager as well."

"Then what's the problem?"

"He was eager to put Joe in the mines."

"What?" He smiled. "He was kidding."

"No pa, I don't think he was. 'Get him some 'real world experience' is what he said. The thing was, Misses Stalnaker was all for it." Ben let out an exasperated breath.

"The greedy bastard." Joe was just another pair of hands to him. Another body to help him dig up the earth. "So, what am I supposed to do now?" Ben and Adam were out of ideas but Hoss had one.

"Have you considered Miss. Davenport?" Davenport was an obvious choice. She was a sweet lady. It was foolish how they hadn't thought of her, Hoss considered. She and Joe had always gotten along.

"Yes. I have." There was a reason Ben hadn't yet asked her. "Her stamina is not what it used to be with her failing medical conditions."

"She's a very sweet lady. She would do it if you asked."

"And you know Joe'd be willing to help her with whatever she needs."

"That's right. She might think him a blessing to have around." Adam supported. Ben considered. "The worst she could say is no."

"I'll ask." He said with a sigh. "What's that?" Ben asked of the stack of letters that Adam had pulled out from within his jacket to hand over. Particularly he asked of the one. Adam knew which one. The larger envelope that stood out from the others. Stained the shade of rusted copper. Ben's name emblazoned in bold calligraphy. A California address adorning the corner. It was sealed with a customized wax stamp that portrayed the miners' pic and hammer.

"I don't know."

"Read it pa." Hoss said, coming over still holding the length of rope. Ben slid a finger beneath, breaking the seal. Scanning it first to ensure that this was something he'd not mind his boys knowing and understanding it to be nothing more than another invitation to some event, one of many he's received over the years. Satisfied with the content, he read aloud. "You have been cordially invited to be a guest speaker at the Legislators' Of a Thousand Drinks.'" The place, date and time scribed beneath.

"Legislators of a thousand drinks?" Hoss queried. "What's that?"

"It's a group of men who have come together to try and turn California into its own state and to make it a part of the Union." Adam answered knowingly.

"It sounds like a group of men who are just looking for an excuse to drink."

"Men don't need excuses. If they want a drink, they just go and get one." Hoss accepted this with a shrug. "This is important work they're doing." Adam averred. Hoss could accept that but was then curious as to what his pa had to do with any of this.

"Why do they want you to speak?" Ben himself, wasn't sure. A hand written letter, appearing to have a personal touch, accompanied this invitation. Perhaps, he considered, this one would provide more answers.

It read: 'Dear Mister Benjamin Cartwright, I'm not sure if you would remember me. We met many years ago on the California Trail. Unfortunately, it is not for nostalgia's sake that I seek you out. The reason for this letter is an important one. Let me get right to it. You see, it had been assumed that the debate on whether California should become a slave-free State was settled last October, voting in favor of slave-free. I regret the matter is not closed however. With the pressure that we are getting from other slave owning states, I fear it might be enough to change the minds of some of our founding members. For this reason, the debates continue. We are meeting again, this time in San Jose. Many prominent and affluent citizens as well as non-citizens have been asked to speak. Unfortunately, many of which I do not wish to hear from as I fear they will seep poison into the minds of the assembly. I am asking you to speak because, though you may not be a citizen of California, I consider you to be an upstanding man. A man with honor, and integrity, and of course with an enhancing degree of notoriety. You have a great presence about you and I feel that you are just the man to counter these naysayers. The fact that you came from such limited means to grow into the man you are today, all without the use of slaves I believe would speak volumes. I think that you are just the man that the assembly needs to hear from. Your discourse would be much valued and imbibed. At the risk of applying an inflated sense of credence, I would venture to say that your input could help shape the course of history.

Truthfully, the assembly wouldn't be the only ones to benefit from your appearance. Speaking personally, I would be blessed to hear from you again after so many years. Please consider this invitation with judicious benevolence.

Your friend, John C. Fremont.'

"What do you think pa? Are you going to go?" The baron rubbed a palm across his chin as he considered. He sure would like to. The invitation was enticing. In his heart though he knew it wasn't feasible.

"September 8th? That's cutting it a little close."

"We'll be done in plenty of time." Adam adduced.

"But not enough time to get home before heading back out."

"Why would we come home? We would already be out in that area. Why wouldn't we just head straight there?"

"And leave Joseph here?"

"It's already five weeks. What would be a few more?"

"It's been difficult enough trying to find somebody to watch him for just the five weeks. A few more could mean the difference between a 'yes' and a 'no'."

"Pa. This is the most important decision for an entire state and you're invited to be a part of it. To be a voice for the future. To write history."

"Sort of building this up to more than it needs to be."

"Am I?" Ben laid the letter aside making room for the rest of his mail.

"I just think we'll have too much going on. If Miss Davenport is watching Joe, then we'll need to get back here in a timely manner."

"Do me a favor." Adam laid a palm on his pa's hand. "Don't say 'no' just yet. Let's just wait and see." The pater agreed with reluctance.

~.~

The next day proved to be just as fruitless. As it turned out, Miss Davenport had developed an infection in her leg and had left town days ago to have a city doctor look at it. Joe would be disappointed.

Miss Davenport lived within sight of the schoolyard. As he stared at the empty playground, he grew a wild hair. She lived nearby. Walking down the street he stopped in front of the two-story house. Her mother answered the door. The matron informed him that Ms. Jones had found a new love interest and would not be available. Ben was just about to pose the offer to Madam Jones when the door was shut in his face. With a deep sigh, he left empty handed.

~.~

"Oh. Mr. Tomlinson. I didn't realize you were here." Ben said coming back in and unwrapping his gun belt while doing his best not to come across as deflated and exhausted as he felt.

"Mr. Tomlinson came by to do business on that steer." Adam revealed.

"That is, if you're still interested Mr. Cartwright." Tomlinson cautioned at Ben's furrow.

"No. Of course. I just didn't expect you today."

"Oh well Adam said…"

"Yes, it just escaped my mind, that's all."

"Mr. Cartwright, if you don't mind me asking, you're looking a bit ill. Is everything alright?" Ben reflected taking a heavy breath and letting it out in a forced smile.

"Yes. It's fine."

"That wasn't convincing at all."

"It's just some things I have to work out."

"Anything that perhaps I could help with?" Ben considered his offer, then shook it away.

"No, no. That's alright. I've just got to move some things around, that's all."

"Really Mr. Cartwright. I hope it's not serious."

"No. Not too serious." He let out another sigh. "I might have to hang back from the drive." Tomlinson's look suggested he wasn't sure why that would be a problem. A man of his wealth and age should be able to sit back and let other's do the work for him.

Ben expounded. "It's my middle son's first drive. I was just really looking forward to being a part of it."

"I see. So, what's holding you back?" Ben was hesitant to divulge so much of his personal problems to a man he had just gotten to know but his new neighbor seemed genuine enough.

"Scheduling conflicts. I haven't been able to find someone to watch Joe in that time. The people I can normally turn to are unable to do it. The drive is just a few days away and I'm afraid I'm not going to be able to find a replacement."

"Well, if you don't mind me being so forward, I'll do it."

"No no. I can't ask you to do that."

"Why not?"

"Well, we hardly know each other."

"You know me well enough. Our sons like each other. They get along well."

"You're new in town. I can't spring that type of responsibility on you."

"Nonsense. I'm volunteering for it. I figured this would be a great way for me to pay you back after what your son did for mine. It'll be no burden at all. I promise. Just the opposite in fact. I could work on my shoes while Scotty would have someone to play with." Ben deliberated on this.

"Come on pa." Hoss urged. Ben knew his middle son would be real hurt if he didn't go.

"This sounds like a great deal." Adam added.

"Well, you'll be well compensated for sure."

"I'm sure I will and hey, it might be just what I need to kick-start my business."

"Well, I guess it's settled." The room boasted.

"And when you get back, we could talk business on leather."

"It's a deal."

~.~

"So good news." Ben announced over supper. "You won't be staying with Ms. Davidson or Ms. Flachmeyer." Joe looked up warily. Somehow, he didn't think good news would follow. "You'll be staying with Mr. Tomlinson."

"Ah pa."

"Hey, at least you'll have someone to play with." Adam supported.

"I don't want to stay with them."

"And why not?"

"You know why?" Joe pushed his plate away sullenly.

"You were still hoping to go with us?"

"I still don't see why I can't."

"Because you can't and that's final. And Tomlinson doesn't need you sulking and taking your sore attitude out on him. He's doing us a big favor here, so you better buck up or you'll have me to contend with. You understand me boy? You respect him."

"Yes pa."

"Finish your food."