(Please forgive the liberties I've taken with the time and setting – Virginia City had not been founded when Joe was a boy and he's unlikely to have been schooled there.)
Little Joe Cartwright's boots pounded along C Street's boardwalk as he sprinted, helter-skelter, through the Christmas revellers.
Ladies balancing baskets and parcels took hasty steps back, tutting at the boy's hollered 'pardon me, ma'am' as he flew past them. A storekeeper proved an unexpected obstacle when, as he stepped out of his store, he collided with the boy. The man's curse was met with a giggle and the doff of a hat and then Joe was running again, the storekeeper shaking a fist behind him.
At the end of each block, he'd jump with relish onto the puddles of ice crisscrossing the alleys and roads, delighting in the sharp crack as the ice splintered beneath his weight.
He laughed as he ran, the joy of the season, natural exuberance and the softly falling snow generated a delight in him which would not stay buried inside.
The ten-year-old skidded to a halt and ducked down behind a barrel; on the other side of the street he could see his pa and Adam outside Burn's Provision Store loading hefty sacks of feed onto the buckboard. A shout caught their attention. Twisting around, Joe could see Hoss stomping down the opposite boardwalk, carrying a box of goods, his brow low over flashing eyes.
"Have you seen Joe?" he shouted. "Little tyke got the jump on me."
Joe grinned. When his middle brother was angry, he took on the appearance of a charging bull.
"I swear when I get my hands on him." But the rest of his words were lost as he met his pa and Adam by the buckboard.
Joe stayed where he was and watched. There was lots of pointing, raised arms, and hands on hips. When they stepped out onto the road and scanned up and down the street, Joe pulled his head back out of sight, giggling quietly.
He dared a peep. His father was still in the road, his boots planted firmly on the ground, arms hovering away from his body in that gunslinger pose Joe knew so well. It was his father's angry pose, as though all the annoyance and irritation couldn't be contained and was about to come hissing out of his ears.
Oh yes, his father was angry, but nothing was going to stop Joe fulfilling his mission. He had a job to do, and he was going to do it.
~8~
Joe's mission had begun the previous day.
It was recess on the last day of the school week, a clear, snow-bright day, and Joe was competing against his school friend, Silas Clarke, over who could roll the largest ball of snow. He had pushed his knee-high creation in a new direction to gather a hitherto uncollected patch of snowfall when he spotted a man hugging a tree and intently watching the schoolyard. Joe glanced around him to see what was holding the man's interest. There was nothing out of the ordinary - only a bunch of kids enjoying the snow and Miss Jones standing on the schoolhouse steps with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders, barking reprimands, such as when Mickey Masterson forced a handful of snow down the back of Katie Webster's dress, or when two of the older teenagers, hand-in-hand, started to sneak off around the back of the school. So, nothing unusual in Joe's eyes. He abandoned his snowy boulder and, exercising that inquisitive nature that usually led to trouble, left the schoolyard, and wandered over to the tree-hugger.
As he drew closer, he recognised the man as an Irish prospector from River's Creek called McMurphy, who, more often than not, could be found hanging around the saloons of Virginia City rather than at his diggings. McMurphy's expression was slack, bleary eyes so absorbed in whatever he was watching, that he didn't notice Joe stop mere feet away from him. Joe took a step closer, moving into his view but those groggy eyes remained immersed on something, or someone, in the schoolyard.
"Mr. McMurphy?"
The man jumped away from the tree, glazed eyes suddenly becoming alert. "Where?" He looked around frantically, his vision finally fixing on Little Joe.
The man's shoulders slumped. "Saint's Alive! Ya sleeven! I thought me oul fella had risen from the grave."
Clouds of stale whisky breath enveloped Joe and he took a step back, waving a hand in front of his nose. "Mr. McMurphy, are you okay?"
With one arm still wrapped around the tree, McMurphy reached out and grabbed Joe, pulling him close.
"Me name's Declan. Mr. McMurphy is me sainted pa."
Joe glanced over at the schoolyard. "What are you looking at?"
Declan released his grip on Joe and wrapped both arms around the tree trunk, his eyes adopting the same vague expression as before. "I'm watching an angel."
Joe followed his gaze. All he could see were his fellow school buddies and...
"Miss Jones?" he cried; his nose crinkled in disgust.
His voice had carried across the open space, causing Miss Jones to look up from where she was brushing down young Sam Reynolds after several of the older boys had decided to turn him into a human snowman.
Declan grabbed Joe and pulled him back behind the tree. "Shush, lad, she'll hear you now." He looked back at Miss Jones. "She's the love of me life. Look at her, Miss Abigail Jones, the most beautiful woman in the whole wide world."
Joe's top lip curled. All he could see was his somewhat thin-faced, pointy-nosed, strait-laced teacher who made history classes so excruciating.
"Does she, er, know you like her?"
Declan pulled his eyes quickly from the object of his desire. "Of course she doesn't. Do you take me for a fool?"
There was no answer to that. He was in love with Miss Jones. Could there be anything more foolish?
Joe thrust his hands deep into his pockets and kicked at the grubby snow at his feet while Declan stared at the woman of his dreams. Together they stood in silence until the school bell rang out signalling it was time for classes to resume.
"Okay, well, I gotta go. We're making garlands to decorate the church this afternoon. Sure beats ciphering." Joe started to walk away.
"Hey, kid, that's it!" Declan stepped out from behind the tree. Now Miss Jones had gone back inside the schoolhouse it was clearly safe for him to do so. "Of course, it's Christmas. I'll buy 'er a gift she can't refuse and write a note tellin' how she makes me heart sing like a gentle breeze shimmering over the slopes of Mount Mullaghcleevaun."
Joe's nose wrinkled. "Yuk."
"What's that?"
"I said... Good luck."
Declan narrowed his eyes but then opened them wide again. "Look kid, you gotta help me."
Joe frowned. "I don't gotta do anything."
The bell sounded again, and Declan jumped back behind the tree. Miss Jones was rounding up the stragglers and soon spotted Joe.
"Little Joseph! You're late - again!" Her high strident voice made Joe cringe. Declan, on the other hand, sighed and gazed at her with a dreamy, slightly drunk, expression. "Ah, she has the voice of a warbling wood thrush, do you not think?"
Joe shook his head and started to walk back to the school.
"Hey, kid, I'll give you a dime to buy a Christmas gift for her."
Joe stopped in his tracks. "Two bits. And why don't you buyit yourself?"
Declan ran a hand over his stubbly chin. "Geez, you drive a hard bargain." He looked over at Miss Jones. "Two bits it is. She's worth it. You know her better than I, you know what she'll like. You deliver it to me, I'll write me note, and she'll come a calling, she will."
And so, after several warm coins were pressed into Joe's palm, and an agreement was made to meet the following day when Joe and his family were coming to town for provisions, the man was gone, crunching down the snowy track into town, stopping sporadically with his face cocked to one side as he composed his love note to his 'angel'.
Joe watched him, scratching his head in wonderment at the strange behaviour of grown-ups until an exasperated "Little Joseph!" broke him from his reverie and he ran back into school.
~8~
The Cartwrights had left the Ponderosa early that Saturday. There hadn't been any fresh snowfall in several days, but as they arrived on the outskirts of Virginia City, the clouds had grown heavy and began to drop large soft flakes. Ben had been adamant they carry out their duties as quickly as possible and be back on their way before the route home became impassable.
But Joe had his mission, he had his two bits, and he had Declan's money to buy a gift for Miss Jones. And nothing, be it snow, fathers or older brothers was going to stop him.
Giving Hoss the slip had been easy. While waiting for Mr. Cass to box up some last-minute necessities, Hoss had become distracted by a fresh supply of boots all the way from San Francisco. It hadn't been hard for Little Joe to steal out of the store without Hoss noticing.
Only, Little Joe hadn't counted on his eldest brother being as devious as him. Adam had stood on the boardwalk looking one way and then the other for any sign of that scalawag of a brother. Pa was standing in the street, exclaiming to anyone in the nearby vicinity exactly what he would do when he laid his hands on that boy. And Hoss's attention was diverted in calming down the wagon horses that were starting to stamp their feet and toss their heads in alarm at Pa's booming voice.
It was then Adam spotted a familiar hat poking out above a barrel on the opposite side of the street. Adam lowered his head, feigning exasperation, his eyes hidden beneath the brim of his hat. And sure enough, on looking up a fraction, he spied a slight figure backing away and disappearing down a nearby alley.
Adam squared his shoulders. "I'll find him, Pa," He had to raise his voice to be heard. "You and Hoss finish up here."
And without waiting for an answer he manoeuvred his way through the passing wagons, carefully avoiding being splashed by slush and wet snow, and followed his little brother.
At the end of the alley, he paused and looked out into B Street. He soon spotted Joe. The kid was on the boardwalk, running a few steps, then walking, running a few more, and then walking, and as he travelled, he was kicking the snow which had been brushed to the edge of the sidewalk down into the street.
"Why that little..." Adam clenched his jaw and followed. But then Joe was running, and Adam had to pick up speed, narrowly avoiding the shoppers and idlers and dawdlers. Joe nipped down another alley, his brother behind him, and before long, they were back on C Street.
"The boy is sneaky, I'll give him that," murmured Adam under his breath, but then found, to his frustration, he'd lost him. Assuming his little brother was headed away from where he could see his Pa and Hoss throwing the last of the feed onto the buckboard, he moved along the street, peering into every store he came to.
It didn't take long before he found him. Joe was standing at the counter of a mercantile watching the storekeeper elaborately wrap a small item. Adam positioned himself in front of the window, hidden as he was by the display of candy jars and trinkets in the storefront. His eyebrows rose as he watched the storekeeper signal for Joe to place his finger on the knot of a bright red ribbon which was then tied fast and plumped into a bow. With a last primp and polish, the man handed Joe the wrapped gift in return for two coins. Adam's suspicions were immediately roused. Where did the boy get all that money from, and why on earth was his ten-year-old brother purchasing what was undoubtedly a gift for a member of the fairer sex. He moved to the side of the door, folded his arms, and waited.
Little Joe was engrossed. Holding the precious gift in both hands, staring at the beautifully wrapped item with its large red bow and printed paper featuring Santa Claus on his sleigh, he stopped in the doorway, mesmerised by what he'd purchased.
"Boo!"
Joe jumped. And so did the box. It flew upwards, spinning several times before it landed firmly in Adam's outstretched hands.
"Adam! What are you doing here? I didn't see you."
"Clearly. You were too enthralled by this. Gotcha yourself a girlfriend, Joe, one with expensive tastes?"
By this time, Joe had gathered himself together. He fixed a pair of innocent eyes on Adam.
"What are you up to, Little Brother?"
"I ain't up to anything, Adam, now can I have it back." He reached out to grab the box, but Adam lifted it out of his reach.
"Who's it for?"
"No one."
"Joe?"
Joe sighed dramatically. "It's for Miss Jones."
"Your teacher?" This was too much for Adam. A bark of a laugh escaped him. "Your teacher, Miss Jones?" He grinned. "Joe, have you gone soft on her? I thought she was, let me see, 'fussy, prissy and as brittle as an icicle.' Adam couldn't hold back his laughter.
"Stop laughin', this ain't from me, it's from..."
The words froze in Joe's mouth.
"It's from who, Joe?"
But Joe was granted a reprieve because the sound of heavy, purposeful footsteps signalled the arrival of his father and Hoss.
"I see you found the little rascal," growled Ben, planting his hand firmly on Little Joe's shoulder. He wasn't going to let him escape again. He glanced at Adam. "And what have you got there?"
Adam looked down at the gift. "It's for Abigail Jones."
His words were met with silence. He looked up, puzzled at the reaction to see his father, Hoss and Joe staring over his shoulder, their eyes widening. Adam's face fell.
Surely not.
It couldn't be.
He slowly turned.
Behind him, wearing a smile as wide as a Cheshire Cat, stood Miss Abigail Jones, a fur hat on her head, and a basket over one arm.
Adam's dimple quirked. "Miss Abigail, what a, er, unexpected surprise." His lips jerked into a short-lived smile. "Of all the people to run into today, now, right now."
Abigail took a step forward and laid a gloved hand on his wrist. "Why, Adam Cartwright, I thought I heard you say my name." Her hand curled around his wrist into a surprisingly strong grip. With a steady tug she pulled him a step closer to her and looked up into his eyes. "It's been a while since you've come down to the school to talk about Little Joseph."
Adam gently extricated his arm from her grip and took several steps back to where Joe was hovering. He slipped an arm around the boy's shoulder and squeezed him close to his side. "Well, Joe's been on his best behaviour and working really hard lately."
Joe frowned as he looked up at Adam. "I have?" The answering tight squeeze on his shoulder brought tears to the boy's eyes. He looked back to Miss Jones. "I have," he stammered.
But Abigail evidently agreed with Joe's original sentiment. Her voice hardened. "Well, I'm not sure I'd go that far." She shook her head and the soft simper returned. "But, Adam, why were you gentleman talking about me?"
A reply was on the tip of his tongue, but Hoss stepped forward.
"Well, Miss Abigail, Older Brother Adam here's gone and bought you a gift."
Adam turned a slow—and deadly—gaze to his younger brother. Hoss's enthusiastic gap-toothed smile faded.
"Adam, is this true?" Abigail moved forward, pressing her hand against his winter coat. He stumbled back against the storefront window, his grip still tight around Little Joe's shoulder.
"Well, er, Miss Abigail, the gift is, er, in fact, from..." Adam suddenly smiled and looked down at his youngest brother. "It's from Joe." He pushed the boy in between himself and Abigail and thrust the present into his hands. "Go on, Little Brother, give the gift to Miss Abigail."
Abigail's grin faded as her sudden hopes of an attachment with the handsome, and educated, Adam Cartwright flew away in the wind. Instead, one of her most tricksy pupils was standing there with a gift in his hands. But Abigail, as like all ladies, could never resist a present.
"Little Joseph, this is most unexpected."
Joe stared down at the gift in his hands and sighed. He lifted the box, with its red bow and cut-out figures of Santa Claus, and let Miss Jones take it from his hands. His mission had failed. Well, half of it. Miss Jones was getting a gift, only from the wrong person. But Little Joe was always one to have an idea or a solution quick to hand. His face brightened as he looked up at Miss Jones.
"It's not from me, well it is from me, but not only from me. It's from all the kids at school for being," he paused and swallowed down a mouthful of saliva, "the bestest...teacher...we could ask for."
Abigail stared at the box, her face suddenly glowing, and without another word began to pull one end of the ribbon.
Ben laughed. "I guess we've spoiled the surprise. I expect this was to have been presented to you on the last day of school."
Abigail was too preoccupied in unwrapping the gift to reply. Once the bow was unravelled and had fluttered to the ground, Abigail tore apart the expensive paper. Inside the wrapping was a small, decorated enamel box with four lion's feet at the corners. On opening the lid Abigail gasped at the sight of a huddle of individually tissue-wrapped bonbons, their sugar-dusting escaping through the paper.
"Bonbons! Little Joseph, how did you know? They are my favourite." She closed the box and, before Joe could escape, she had leaned down and kissed him on the cheek.
Joe's face screwed up.
"I always knew there was a kind, sweet boy underneath all that vexatious, roguish behaviour."
Ben frowned. "I admit Joe can be a little mischiev—"
"Oh Mr. Cartwright, a little mischievous is the understatement of the century, but all is forgiven when he can find it in his heart to buy me such a wonderful gift."
Joe grinned.
"And I'll be sure to bring it to lessons on Monday to show all your fellow students what a wonderful young man you are."
Joe's face dropped.
"But I can't linger." The box was tucked securely into her basket. "Gentlemen." She nodded to each in turn. "Adam." Her tongue lingered over his name, as her eyes lingered over his face. And turning on her heel, she continued on her way.
~8~
Adam eased his shoulders down and blew out a long slow breath. But then his eyes narrowed and he spun smoothly on his heels to face his little brother. "Joe?" The long-protracted sound of his name sent Little Joe scuttling behind his father and Hoss. "What have you gotten yourself into this time?"
"I was only helping—"
"I nearly ended up engaged to be married to Miss Abigail Jones." Adam's fists clenched. "I should have stayed back east. It was safe there from mercenary teachers and," his eyes flashed at Joe, "little brothers."
Joe's face darkened. He squeezed through Ben and Hoss and with his fists on his hips glared up at Adam.
"I'm the one who's gonna be seen as the teacher's pet. My life won't be worth living."
Hoss laughed. "But that was a right nice thing to do, Little Brother, buyin' your teacher a gift." He frowned. "Though a mighty expensive one at that, those bonbons ain't cheap."
Joe threw a fierce glance at Hoss. "I ain't no teacher's pet. I didn't buy Miss Abigail a present." He exhaled heavily. "Well, I did. But it ain't from me."
Hoss frowned. "So, it was from Adam."
"No!" Hoss stepped back at the vociferous response from both Adam and Joe.
Ben, who had been observing the exchange with one raised eyebrow and a growing smile, cupped his youngest's neck with a gloved hand. "Well, Joseph, if the bonbons aren't from you, and they aren't from your brother, Adam, who are they from?"
~8~
Little Joe had to run to keep up with his oldest brother's large strides.
"Declan McMurphy! Of all people, Joe."
"He wanted my help."
"And you decided to help out of the goodness of your heart."
"I—"
Adam came to a sudden stop and Joe had continued on a few steps before realising he was no longer beside his brother. He turned to see Adam standing with his head cocked to one side, his eyes narrowed.
"How much?"
"Huh?"
Adam closed the distance between them and bent down so they were eye to eye. "How much?" The words were drawn out like thick molasses.
Joe swallowed. "Two bits."
Adam straightened up and gazed into the snowy sky. "Two bits." He shook his head. "Those two bits nearly had me wed to Abigail Jones."
He strode on and suddenly stopped again. "You know Declan McMurphy is a drunk, he's not done an honest day's work in his life, and when he's not in the saloon, he's scrabbling around that pit he calls a stake up at River's Creek."
"So?"
"So, you think Miss Abigail would be interested in a man like that? She wants someone who is refined, knows their books, who can at least see straight."
A smile curled around Joe's lips.
"Now Joe..."
"You described yourself."
Adam shook his head. "Come on."
They continued in silence until they arrived at the Silver Dollar. "And this is where you said you'd meet him? At noon?"
Joe nodded.
Adam checked his pocket watch. "Well, it's a little after." He slipped his watch back into his pocket. "You wait here," he poked a long finger into Joe's chest, "while I go and sort out your mess."
The sticky heat from unwashed bodies and a couple of wood-burning stoves hit Adam as he swung through the batwing doors. Someone was bashing out a tune on an old piano and the noise and hubbub were loud after the quiet of the snow-covered streets outside.
He stopped in the doorway and scanned the room. There at the end of the bar sat Declan, one hand holding a shot glass, his eyes blurry as he looked across the room. Adam took a breath and zigzagged through the patrons to reach his man.
"McMurphy?"
Declan was swaying gently on his stool, his head moving as his eyes followed someone around the room.
"McMurphy," Adam repeated, louder this time.
Again, there was no response so Adam moved into his line of vision. Declan swerved to look around him. Adam mirrored his movement. Declan swung in the opposite direction. Adam did the same. And it was only when this dance was repeated for the third time did Declan speak. "Would ya get outta me way, man, for pity's sake?"
"Declan!" Adam snapped his fingers in the man's face, and only then did Declan focus on him.
"Adam Cartwright. What do you be wanting with me, now?"
"I believe you know my little brother, Joe."
Declan's gaze lowered to the bar as he frowned. "I don't think I know any little brothers."
A body suddenly thrust itself between Adam and Declan. Little Joe, who had been hiding behind a large miner halfway down the bar, had decided it was time to intervene. "Yes, you do, Mr. McMurphy, me, I'm Joe, I'm Adam's little brother."
A pair of bleary eyes came to rest on the boy. "Oh, you. You're a Cartwright? Well, I'll be."
"Joe, I told you to wait outside."
Joe ignored Adam. "Mr. McMurphy, it's all my fault. I bought the gift as you said with the coins you gave me and I had it in my hand but then Adam found me and took it and Miss Abigail saw us and thought it was from Adam but Adam said it was from me so she's got it now." He stopped and took a breath. "But she doesn't know it's from you."
Declan had listened to Joe's outburst with a steadily rising pair of eyebrows and a top lip twitching as he took it all in. He stared at the boy for a few long seconds.
"What are ya talking about, now? What gift?"
Adam and Joe exchanged a puzzled look.
"The gift you asked me to buy for Miss Jones and bring here so you could give it her."
Declan tugged his ear. "Why would I be buying a schoolmarm a gift? I mean, you did say, Miss Jones?"
Joe nodded.
Declan scratched his head. "Miss Jones?" His face screwed up as though he'd swallowed a fly.
"Miss Jones may be a fine upstanding lady but she's too grand for the likes of me. Besides," Declan's face softened as he looked out into the saloon, "my heart belongs to Lightnin' Lil."
Adam and Joe turned to see who Declan was watching. Sashaying her way through the tables was a well-built, heavily painted saloon girl. Well, girl was a misnomer. Lil was a veteran of saloon and bar, and young she was not; the lines on her face barely hidden by her face paint. But she wore a ready smile, and she passed no man without giving him a squeeze on his cheek or a wiggle of her hips. She received many a pat on her rump in return, which caused her to jump and feign disapproval, slapping down the offending hand with a wink.
Declan sighed. "She's the woman for me."
Adam's face quirked into half a grin. "Oh, well, er, our mistake. We're sorry to have bothered you." Adam wrapped his arm around Joe's chest and began to back away. "We'll leave you to your, er, whiskey."
They made it as far as the midway point of the bar when suddenly...
"Hey!"
They stopped and turned. Declan had climbed off his stool and was stumbling his way towards them, one hand steadying himself on the bar and any passing patrons.
"What's that ya said about coins?"
Adam still had his arm curled around Joe who backed up flat against him.
Declan peered down at the boy. "I gave you coins for a gift, you say?"
"Er..." Joe looked up at Adam.
"How much did I give ya? And you be truthful now, boyyo. I don't likes a liar." Declan suddenly seemed a whole lot soberer.
Joe sighed. "Two dollars."
"Two dollars!" Adam frowned at Declan. "You gave Joe two dollars to buy a gift for a woman you can't remember asking him to buy a gift for?"
Declan reached out across the bar and drew a bottle of whisky across the surface. He lifted the bottle and peered at the swirling firewater. "I gotta stop drinking this stuff." He turned back to Joe. "I'll have me two dollars back please, young sir."
Joe half-smiled and then turned to look up at Adam.
With a sigh, Adam rooted in his pockets and pulled out two coins.
"Come on, Joe." And with his hand held tight to the back of Joe's neck, he steered him out of the saloon. Declan's voice could be heard bellowing across the room. "Lil, me darlin', I've had meself a windfall, bring a bottle and yerself and we'll celebrate in style." The batwing doors shut out the cheer that went up behind them.
~8~
Adam's hand was still firmly clamped to Joe's neck as he guided him along the street.
"Ow, Adam, let me go."
"You're not going anyway, kid, I own you now."
"Huh?"
"Two dollars. You owe me two whole dollars. That's every log I have to chop, every horse I have to put up in the barn, every egg I have to collect from the coop. You're mine, Joe, until I reckon you've paid your dues. I'd say that'll be around Thanksgiving, don't you think?"
"Aw Adam!"
"Don't you Adam me. I nearly ended up married to Abigail Jones because of you, and now I'm two dollars worse off."
As they approached the buckboard they could see Hoss waiting patiently, reins in hand, and their pa was mounted up, holding Adam's horse ready for him. Adam suddenly stopped again.
"Aw gee Adam, I wish you'd stop doing that."
Adam stood staring straight ahead and as Joe walked back, a pair of dark heavy-lidded eyes looked down at him.
"As a matter of interest, Little Brother, how much was that casket of bonbons?"
Joe opened his mouth, pondering his reply.
"And you know all I have to do is walk over to the mercantile and find out."
Joe's shoulders dropped and he looked down. He mumbled a reply.
"What was that, Joe, I didn't hear ya?"
"A dollar, okay, a dollar."
Adam smiled as he shook his head. He held out his hand.
"I don't have it anymore."
"What?"
Joe sighed again. "As soon as Declan gave me the money I knew what I'd buy Miss Jones. I knew she liked bonbons, she's always going on about Marie Anton... Antynet..."
"Antoinette."
"Yeah, her. I knew they cost a dollar. So, I bet Silas Clarke a dollar I could hit the weather-vane on the top of the livery stable with a snowball."
"And did you?"
"No, Silas distracted me, and I tripped and hit Mrs Clancey's old mare instead. We ran away when they were trying to catch her, and Silas said I'd lost the bet."
Joe kicked the dirty snow at his feet, his hands thrust low into his pockets. But then a deep, rumbling laugh ejected from his brother and he looked up to see Adam bent over with his hands on his knees, his eyes tearing up as he laughed. After a few moments he straightened and took several breaths to calm himself.
"Oh, Joe, maybe I'll let you off a little."
Joe's face brightened. "Yeah?"
"Yeah, you're mine till Easter."
He curved his hand around Joe's shoulders, and they continued along the boardwalk.
"You know, Adam, this is all Miss Abigail's fault."
"Miss Abigail? What makes you say that?"
"Because she's a girl, and men act dumb around girls." He stopped and looked up at his brother. "I ain't never, never gonna have anything to do with girls."
Adam smiled. "Never?"
His query was met with a sharp nod. "Never."
With a knowing smile on his face, Adam nodded back. And with the snow falling, and the lights starting to twinkle in the store windows, they carried on their way to their waiting family.
The End