The Heirs
Letters from Adam were few and far between, so when one arrived, it was read aloud by Ben not only to Hop Sing who sat on the edge of the settee, but also to Hoss who would have just returned from town with the missive, having resisted temptation to open it beforehand, employing all his self-control to keep from sliding a finger under the gummed seal and reading it right then and there in the small post office, a section of the General Store. Hoss' heart would catch a beat at the sight of the tan envelope and he would slip it into the inside pocket of his vest; it was too valuable to trust the saddle bag. Hoss would hand the envelope addressed to Mr. Benjamin Cartwright, Virginia City, Nevada, and with Capt. A.S. Cartwright on the top left, to his father and wait until its words were revealed. Later, it would be shared with Joe.
"My Dear Father,
I hope this letter finds you well. I apologize for taking so long to reply to your last letter. Nevertheless, I am always pleased to hear news from home and that everyone is doing well. Please let Hop Sing know I pine for his fried chicken and hot biscuits as often our rations are late and sometimes, distasteful. I did receive the box of cookies, but just the box with crumbs in the bottom, as the contents appear to have been "commandeered" by a mail clerk with a sweet tooth along the route…"
Adam only hinted at the hardships and the horrors of war, but Ben felt there was more to the light tone of Adam's letters and often, in private, Ben read and reread them, judging Adam's words for any deeper, more somber meanings. Otherwise, the letters were rife with talk of the weather and the bad food, the shenanigans of the soldiers and amusing anecdotes. But once Adam asked for socks—as many as his father could send as he would be in Westchester, New York for a few weeks. Please, he had asked, send the package in care of McDougall Hospital as many of the patients needed socks for the winter and made a joke about one patient, an amputee, being able to wear both socks at one time during the icy, northern nights. And that night, in the privacy of his bedroom, Ben dropped to his knees, praying fervently that Adam wasn't seriously injured and had made the request for socks out of his generous heart. And in his own room Hop Sing lit incense and offered prayers to his gods for the protection of Mister Adam Cartwright.
But many nights when the house was asleep, Ben lay awake with worry. Often he would rise, slip on his robe and pass Hoss' room, his snoring making Ben smile, and go into Adam's empty bedroom. He would sit on the side of the bed and look around. Adam being away at war was the longest they had ever been apart, and Ben felt an emptiness he couldn't explain or understand. During the days, Ben tried to keep himself busy so he would be exhausted enough to quickly fall asleep but still, many a night he would lie awake. He had even taken to drinking whiskey at night in the hopes of a dreamless sleep because they were so full of horror and grief. Hop Sing fussed every time he found the empty glass the next morning and said alcohol was bad for sleep and would instead brew a pot of chamomile tea; Hop Sing claimed it would relax Ben enough to sleep. Some nights, it worked. Other nights, nothing worked and those were the nights Ben wandered the house, worrying about his eldest son.
But one fall morning, Ben had something else about which to worry. His daughter-in-law was in labor and after Drake, the barn boy, delivered the news, Ben hurried over to Joe's house leaving a message for Hoss with Hop Sing.
Deborah welcomed Ben, saying she was concerned as it was early labor; there should be at least another month before the birth. Joe had already ridden into town for Dr. Turner.
"There's coffee in the kitchen," Deborah said. "Help yourself, Ben, to anything. I'm going back up to Melinda."
According to what Dr. Turner said at his previous visit, Melinda's second delivery should have been easier, but it wasn't. The doctor had suspected Melinda again carried twins the same way some chickens always dropped double-yoked eggs, at least that was how he explained it. But this time, they were girls. The first born, Amy Louise, was small but quickly turned a rosy pink and wailed in loud protest. After 15 minutes, the second twin was born and survived in the world less than two hours, just long enough to be named Abigail Marie Cartwright and to be seen by not only her grandfather, but by Pastor Johnson who blessed the infant before her last breath. Joe was devastated and not even the pastor could comfort him. But life went on.
Deborah helped with the children as much as she could while silently grieving over the lost granddaughter. But the delivery had been especially difficult and it took Melinda longer to recover, not only from the physical birth but the loss. Deborah saw that this was what life was to be for Melinda, giving birth to a child or another set of twins, every two years until finally, Melinda died in childbirth. No, Deborah thought. It wouldn't be that way and the doctor had agreed; no more pregnancies, no more children. But Deborah had her own plan that didn't include telling Joe celibacy was a requirement if he wanted his wife to survive past the next two years.
The pills she took every morning were almost gone and Deborah needed to visit Ying Chao in Chinatown for more. The pills had helped Deborah as she had begun to feel better, at least better than she had before. Her energy was greater although many times, she still felt her pulse race and became light-headed. But then, Deborah considered, the pills only extended her life; there had been no promise she would be cured. Perhaps, Deborah considered, Ying Chao had pills or potion to prevent pregnancies; there had to be better ways than separate rooms and abstinence. Deborah didn't want Joe to look elsewhere to satisfy his desires and then have any Cartwright by-blow claim a portion of the Ponderosa and cheat her grandchildren, the legitimate heirs, of what is theirs.
"Greta!" Deborah called, slipping on her gloves. "Greta!"
A young, plump woman with a pleasant face, came to the top of the stairs, holding Amy in her arms. Melinda was still recovering in bed and the sounds of Rance and Race loudly playing came from overhead. Deborah wanted them to be quiet but Melinda begged her not to; she enjoyed hearing them laugh and play and when they raced into her room in the morning, climbing onto the bed to be hugged and kissed by her, Melinda swore she felt immediately better.
Deborah had hired Greta to help with the children; Ting was now doing more wash with the additional diapers and far more cleaning. She became even more sullen as Deborah ordered her about, checked even the picture frames for dust and insisted there not even be a scuff mark left on the floor. Along with blacking the stove and taking out the ashes, Ting also tended the vegetable garden outside the kitchen door, picking off and crushing grasshoppers and pulling up any weeds. Ting mumbled under her breath and glared at Deborah whenever she felt it was safe, that is, when Deborah's back was turned.
"Yes, ma'am," Greta said, shifting the infant in her arms.
"I'm going into town for a bit. Don't disturb Mrs. Cartwright if you can help it and take the boys outside to burn off some of their energy. And the grocer is making a delivery today. The bread is cooling on the counter. I can't think of anything else at the moment…oh, yes. The other day, I noticed the way Drake looks at you. He seems to admire your figure."
"Oh, ma'am, I've done nothing to encourage any attention from him." Greta blushed and stumbled over her words as Drake had made a few suggestive comments to her. "I try my best to be pleasant but…" Deborah had chosen Greta, the youngest daughter in the Enberg family, because she wasn't particularly pretty; she had a wide, bland face and uncommonly large breasts for one so young. But Greta, Deborah judged, would not be to Joe's liking so she was safe to have in the house.
"Good," Deborah replied. "Keep it that way or one of you will be gone. Remember for what you were hired and it wasn't to roll about in the hay with the barn boy" Deborah picked up her basket, turned on her heel and went out to the barn, highly satisfied that Drake had her buggy ready to go and was standing, holding the horse's noseband.
~ 0 ~
"Honorable father in back," Ying Song said, bowing slightly to Deborah. "Father already make pills for you." Song couldn't tell the whole truth, that they knew she would return for more medicine or that her father was on the cot in the back room, enjoying an opium dream.
"One thing," Deborah said, touching Song's arm as the woman turned away. Song stopped and faced the white woman. "Is there anything that can end a pregnancy before it even begins?"
Ying Song was taken aback. The woman before her was far too old to have that concern and although Song knew that many men cared nothing for a woman's face as they concentrated more on what was under her skirts, Song couldn't even envision Deborah in any man's embrace. But what was it she had heard…yes, that this woman's daughter, the one married to the youngest Cartwright son had lost half of a set of twins—bad luck as perhaps they had shared one soul. But this woman hadn't come to ask about that.
"Shì de. You sit, wait." Ying Song went into the back and looked on the shelf in the semi-darkness for the familiar bottles of pills that were often given to many patrons, not just Mrs. Banning. She pulled aside a thin curtain to look at the labels in the light from the begrimed window. Yes, they were the right ones. Ying Song knew the pills contained practically useless substances except for some ground plant roots and herbs that excited the blood and gave a sense of well-being. Song crouched down and opened a low cabinet. There were the bottles to rid one of babies. Song took it herself after the nights where there was no money for her father's opium and she had to lay herself down in exchange for the precious substance.
"Here," Ying Song said, dropping the four bottles into Deborah's basket on her lap. "This for no babies." Song held the bottle which had a dropper unlike the other bottles which all had cork stoppers. "One drop next morning and no baby. One drop. No more."
"Yes. That's what I want." Deborah took the bottle and placed it in the basket. "How much?"
"Father say for all…three dollar." Song waited, her heart thudding; she was afraid of this woman whom she suspected to be a demon in human skin. But necessity drove Song as the cost of opium was greater than it had ever been as more Chinese came and settled in Chinatown, upping the demand.
The price for her medicine had slowly been increasing and Deborah had begrudgingly handed over the extra two cents or additional nickel every few months or so but this, this was outrageous. "Three dollars! I won't pay that! I'll go elsewhere! I'll give you…two dollars." Deborah knew she was being played for a fool. After all, Ying Song knew her relationship with the Cartwright family, that money flowed from their hands like water.
Ying Song paused before saying, "Father will be angry but…two dollar." She put out her hand and Deborah counted out the two silver dollars. Also in Deborah's reticule was a derringer to use if someone decided to rob the white woman who rode alone into Chinatown. Ying Song had noticed it many months earlier and passed the word that this woman was an evil force and to stay away.
Deborah showed the tincture to Melinda.
"You're not going to die in childbirth."
"Mother, I don't think it's right to trick Joe like that."
"You lie in bed after all that you went through, almost dying and you talk about tricking him! Melinda, through all time women having been resorting to all sorts things to keep from bearing children. Don't be so foolish. Do you think Joseph would prefer separate rooms or this?" Melinda broke into tears. She knew her mother was right but yet it seemed so wrong.
"All right, mother. But I should be able to tell him."
"Men don't realize what childbirth is like. What if he wants more children. What then, Melinda? What then?"
Melinda recovered slowly but she did, much to Joe's happiness and relief. When her condition had been most serious, Joe had confided to his father he didn't know what he would do without Melinda, he loved her so. Ben had rubbed Joe's shoulder as his son wept. He knew what it was like to lose your wife and have to raise sons without their mother but a daughter? That would be a challenge for all of them, including Deborah.
Greta and Deborah helped with the twins who always demanded their mother's attention which she willingly gave. Only when Joe came home at night did the boys go racing to him. He would sit and the boys would climb on him, chattering and pushing each other aside to be heard by their father. Amy Louise was different, constantly clinging to her mother, shy around the loud and raucous boys. Race and Rance, were hearty and rough and tumble handsome boys, sources of great pride for Joe. Amy Louise was a beautiful child with huge green eyes like her father. Joe knew to be gentle with her and when he would take her in his arms, she would hug his neck and lay her small head on his shoulder.
Melinda realized she was truly happy; she had everything any woman could ever want.