The brilliant sun stood almost directly above the cottonwoods along the Carson.   The trees spread their limbs wide, dark leaves creating broad circles of shade, as the newlyweds rolled eastward in the buckboard.  Ben turned to his bride with a wide grin.  “That’s the Thomas place just ahead,” he announced.  “That’s where the boys are.”

    “So close?” Marie shrieked.  “Oh, Ben, stop, please!”

    Ben reined in the horses.  “Whatever for?  I thought you couldn’t wait to meet your new sons.”

    “I can wait until I wash the dust from my face,” Marie sputtered, scrambling down from the wagon without waiting for assistance.  “I am covered with it, Ben!”

    “All right,” Ben laughed.  “Just don’t fall in the drink, Mrs. Cartwright.  That won’t add a thing to their first impression of you.”

    Marie cast him a reproachful look and scurried to the river’s edge to dabble her handkerchief in the water and wipe her face.  Ben walked up behind her and turned her around.  “You look beautiful,” he said, planting a kiss on her freshly washed cheek.

    “How can you say that?” Marie fretted, brushing the skirt of her green traveling suit.  “Look at me!”

    Ben laughed.  “No one here will be bothered by a bit of dust.  We’re used to it.”

    Marie smiled.  “It is just, as you say, that I wish to make a good first impression.”

    “You will,” Ben assured her.  Putting an arm around her waist he led her back to the wagon and helped her to the seat.

    In the packed dirt of the cabin’s yard, four youngsters were at play.  Billy and Adam, for all their pretensions of manhood, were taking a turn at the seesaw that Sunday morning, while Hoss and Inger played toss-and-fetch with Klamath.

    Sharp-eyed Billy was, as usual, the first to spot the approach of visitors.  “Reckon who that could be?” he asked.

    Hoss, a little closer than the older boys, stood still, stick in hand, and squinted at the approaching wagon.  The stick fell to the ground.  “It’s Pa,” he hollered and took off.

    “Can’t be,” Adam scoffed.  “There’s a lady with that gent.”

    “Sure is,” Billy agreed, “but that’s your pa, sure as the world.  Come on!”  He hit the ground running, leaving Adam to pick himself up off the ground at his end of the seesaw.  Billy charged up to the cabin door.  “Hey, Ma!” he yelled.  “Uncle Ben’s back, and he’s got a lady with him.”

    Nelly wiped her floured hands on her apron and came to the doorway.  “Lands, who can that be?” she asked, shading her brown eyes with her palm.  She stepped into the yard, Clyde joining her as the wagon, with Hoss running at its side, pulled up.

    Ben sprang down and wrapped the chunky youngster in his arms.  “How’s Pa’s big boy?” he cried.

    Before Hoss could answer, Adam had thrown himself at his father, too, and for all three Cartwrights actions made words unnecessary.  The fourth Cartwright sat on the wagon seat, thirstily drinking in her first view of her new sons, until she became aware of the ocean of eyes staring at her.  Her cheeks reddened under the scrutiny.

    “Did you bring me something, Pa?” Hoss, the only one oblivious to the newcomer, demanded.

    “Hoss!” Adam scolded, cheeks flaming.  “That’s a fine thing to let fly out of your mouth first thing!”  Seeing all the boxes and bundles in the back of the buckboard, he was wondering the same thing himself, of course, but it was ill-mannered to ask for presents straight off.

    Hoss looked chagrined, but Ben just rumpled his sandy hair and laughed.  “Yes, I brought surprises for both my boys,” he said, “but you can’t have yours ‘til after dinner.

    “Candy!” Hoss squealed.

    “That’s right,” Ben chuckled.  “Bonbons for you and books for Adam.”  He smiled back at the lady blushing on the wagon.  “And I brought an even more special surprise,” he announced, offering her his hand to descend from the wagon.  When Marie stood at his side, Ben said, “Clyde, Nelly, children——I’d like you to meet Marie DelVyre D’Marigny—”  He intended to add Cartwright, but Nelly cut him off.

    “Jean’s wife!” Nelly cried.  “That’s who you are!”

    “Well, yes, I was.”  Marie sent Ben a mute appeal for help, but Ben just folded his arms, obviously finding sport in letting the misconception play itself out.

    “Yes, dear,” Nelly was saying sympathetically, assuming Marie had used the past tense because Jean was now dead.  “You’ve suffered a terrible loss, and you must be tired, too, after your long trip.  You come right inside and refresh yourself.”  She led Marie to the rocking chair by the fire in the parlor.  “There now, you just rest.  I’ve got dinner started, but I’ll hurry it along.”

    “Oh, please, may I help?” Marie asked, starting to rise.

    Nelly pushed her gently back into the rocker.  “I wouldn’t hear of it, Mrs. D’Marigny.  You must be exhausted.”

    “Yes, but—but I am not—” Marie sputtered.  She threw Ben another pleading look, but he just winked mischievously.

    The men and youngsters had followed the two women into the parlor.  Nelly turned around.  “Clyde, you’d best ride over to Cosser’s boarding house after dinner and see if they have a room for Mrs. D’Marigny.”

    “No need of that, Nelly,” Ben chuckled.

    “Well, of course, there’s need, Ben,” Nelly scolded.  “You’re tired, and Clyde’ll be glad to see to the arrangements.  The lady will need a place to stay while she’s here seein’ to her husband’s affairs.”  Nelly wasn’t sure what affairs Jean D’Marigny could have left unattended here in Utah Territory, but she could imagine no other reason the woman would have traveled from New Orleans.

    “No, I meant that the lady will be staying at my place,” Ben announced, watching carefully for the explosion he was sure would follow.

    “Ben!” Nelly hissed.  “How could you even think of anything so scandalous?”  She took Marie’s hand protectively.  “If you don’t care what folks think of you, at least consider this poor child’s reputation.”

    “There’ll be a lot more talk if I don’t take her home with me,” Ben stated wryly.  “After all, man and wife generally sleep under the same roof.”

    The silence that followed was as deafening as the aftermath of a cannon blast.  Everyone stared first at Ben, then at the furiously blushing Marie.  Finally, Clyde grinned and clapped Ben on the back.  “You sly old dog!” he cackled.  “Let you out of our sight a few weeks, and you go and git yourself hitched!”

    “That’s right, I just can’t be trusted,” Ben chuckled.

    Nelly pressed her hands against her cheeks.  Then, as Ben tried to give her a repentant hug, she slapped his arms away.  “Ooh, you awful man!” she fumed.  “Lettin’ me go on like that, after you led me astray deliberate.”

    Ben just laughed and gave her a squeeze.  “Is it my fault you interrupted my introduction?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.  He took Marie’s hand and lifted her to her feet.  “Let’s start again, then.  This, my friends, is Marie DelVyre D’Marigny Cartwright.”  He laid heavy emphasis on the final word.

    Ben caught sight of Hoss’s puzzled face and stooped down to the little lad’s level.  “I brought you more than bonbons, Hoss,” he said softly.  “I brought you a new mama.”

    “For real and true?” Hoss whispered, awestruck.  “A real mama?”

    Marie bent to take his pudgy cheeks between her palms.  “I hope to be a good one, Hoss.”

    Hoss threw his chubby arms around her.  “I always wanted a mama,” he declared.

    Marie held him close.  What a darling boy!  He was just as Ben had described him, warm and loving, taking her to his heart in an instant.  She looked hopefully at the older boy and her smile faded, for Adam was staring at her with dark, brooding eyes.

    “Adam, don’t you have a greeting for your new mother?” Ben was asking.

    “She’s not my mother!” Adam shouted, spun on his heels and ran from the cabin.  Billy trotted after him.

    “Oh,” Marie cried, “we have hurt him!”

    Nelly was at her side in an instant, holding the slender, trembling girl in her warm embrace.  “There now; don’t fret, honey lamb.  Adam’ll come around.”  She turned censorious eyes on Ben.  “You and your surprises,” she chided.  “It was bad enough leading me on, but to spring the news on the boy that way!  Ben, where was your head?”

    “I guess I didn’t think,” Ben conceded, “but I sure never expected that reaction.  Adam’s been taught better manners than that.”

    “Oh, Ben, no one remembers manners when he is wounded,” Marie objected in Adam’s defense.  “You must go to him.”

    “This child’s got more sense than you,” Nelly said.  “For mercy’s sake, Ben, go after the boy.”

    Ben looked torn.  He hated to leave Marie among virtual strangers, but she was nodding her permission, and Hoss had instinctively moved closer to comfort her.  “Will you take care of Mama for me while I talk to Adam, son?” he asked.

    “Sure, I will,” Hoss declared, chest puffing out.

    “I’ll be back soon,” Ben promised, pressing a soft kiss to Marie’s forehead.

    “Ben, you been out of commission longer than I figured if you think that’s the way to kiss a new bride,” Clyde guffawed.

    Ben smiled, his spirit lightened by the jibe.  “You’re right,” he said as he pulled Marie into his arms and gave her lips a loud, vigorous smack.

    “Ben, please,” Marie pleaded, embarrassed.

    “Scat, Ben,” Nelly ordered, flapping her apron at him.  “You come in the kitchen with me,” she said, gently pulling Marie toward the door.  “I think I could use a little help after all.”  Better to keep the girl busy, Nelly decided, and for all she’d been married twice, the new Mrs. Cartwright was still little more than a girl, young and innocent like the two little ones who followed at her heels.  Clyde could call Ben a sly dog if he wanted, but Nelly figured cradle-robber came closer to truth.

    Adam hadn’t gone far.  He leaned back against the cabin’s west end, arms stiffly folded, black eyes flinty.

    “What’s the matter with you?” Billy demanded.  “You’d think your pa’d brought home a grizzle bear instead of the prettiest lady I ever saw!”

    “What’s looks got to do with anything?” Adam snarled.  “She’s got no business here.”

    “Huh!” Billy snorted.  “Seems your pa thinks different, and I’m takin’ his side.”

    Adam clenched his fist and took a step toward Billy, but before he could reward his friend’s impudence with the appropriate retaliation Ben rounded the corner.  Adam’s fingers loosened and fell to his side.

    “Don’t need to tell me,” Billy announced.  “I know when to clear out.”  He ran back around the corner Ben had just passed.

    Adam jerked away from the wall and stalked to the nearby woodpile.  Picking up the hatchet stuck in the chopping block, he slammed its blade along the edge of a small log.

    Ben frowned.  “I didn’t hear anyone ask for more kindling, boy.”

    Adam winced.  The very address his father had chosen told him he was in deep trouble.  “Just figured to make myself useful,” he said, splitting off another piece of wood.

    Ben grabbed Adam’s elbow and wrenched the hatchet away.  “You’re avoiding me, Adam; that’s not like you.  Now, what’s this all about?”

    Adam answered with another question.  “How could you, Pa?” he demanded.  “How could you go and get married without asking us first?”

    Ben took a deep breath.  “I don’t need your permission to take a wife, boy.”

    Adam folded his arms and glared at his father, stubborn as before.  “You did when you married Inger.”

    Ben shook his head in disbelief.  “Oh, Adam, I wasn’t really asking your permission back then, either.  I already knew you loved Inger.”

    “You didn’t know it about this one,” Adam sputtered, knocking the remaining wood off the chopping block.  “You didn’t even tell us.”

    Ben took the boy by both shoulders.  “I couldn’t, Adam; everything happened too quickly for that.”

    “You could have written, at least,” Adam insisted.

    Ben removed his hands.  “I suppose I could have, but I wanted to tell you this news in person, son.  I admit I did a poor job of choosing time and place, and for that I apologize.”

    “I just don’t understand, Pa,” Adam murmured, the pain evident in his voice.  “Was it because you felt bad about the way her husband died or ‘cause she didn’t have anyone to take care of her?  Why, Pa?”

    “For none of those reasons,” Ben said calmly, “but for the best of possible reasons.  I fell in love with her, Adam, and you will, too, if you give yourself a chance.”

    Adam shook his head violently.  “No,” he declared adamantly.

    Ben’s face grew stern.  “Adam,” he said sharply, then made his tone more conciliatory.  “You shouldn’t make such snap judgments, son; it’s never wise and totally wrong in this case.  Marie is going to make a wonderful addition to our home.”

    “We don’t need her,” Adam pleaded, his black eyes anguished.  “We were fine the way we were.”

    “I wasn’t fine,” Ben said quietly.  “I was incredibly lonely, Adam.  Now I have someone to share my life.”

    Tears were filling Adam’s eyes, but he blinked them back.  “You had someone before.  You had me and Hoss.”

    “There’s room in Hoss’s heart for someone else; why not in yours?” Ben asked soberly.

    “Hoss is a baby,” Adam railed, “and too dumb to know better.”

    “That’s enough!” Ben shouted.  “At this moment I’ll take the baby’s maturity over the boy’s.  Now, dinner will be ready soon.  I expect you to be at the table and I expect you to be civil.  As long as you’ve started, I suggest you go ahead and split a little kindling.  Maybe you can work off some of your temper!”  He turned and walked away.

    Adam stared sadly at his father’s retreating back.  He couldn’t ever remember feeling this desolate, this devastated.  His father had always been his best friend, his greatest supporter.  Now all that seemed lost, all because of an unexpected, unwanted intruder.  He picked up the hatchet and a block of wood, but no matter how forcefully he whacked at it, he couldn’t release his anger.  He came to dinner when he was called, but sat silent at the table, eyes riveted to his plate.  He was afraid if he raised them, his feelings would show and drive his father further away.

    As soon as dinner ended, the Cartwright boys gathered their possessions and loaded them in the buckboard.  Ben helped Marie in, then noticed Hoss climbing up on the other side.  “No, Hoss,” he said, “you ride in back, son.”

    “Oh, there is room,” Marie said, scooting close to Ben’s side.

    “All right,” Ben laughed indulgently, “but don’t complain if he’s a tight fit.”

    Hoss’s addition did make for tight seating, but Marie wouldn’t have dreamed of asking him to move.  She put her arm around him in a welcoming embrace and he snuggled close, each happy in the other’s closeness.  Alone in the back of the cluttered buckboard, Adam smoldered all the way home, rejecting all Marie’s attempts to draw him into the conversation.  Klamath, trotting alongside the wagon, received more of his attention than she.

    “I cannot wait to see our home,” Marie enthused.  “Are we near there, Ben?”

    “Another mile,” Ben said.

    “And is it as small as the Thomas’s cabin?”

    Ben coughed.  “Well, uh, as a matter of fact—”

    “It’s smaller,” Adam grunted, finally favoring them with a remark since it could be a discouraging one.  “Lots smaller, barely big enough for three.”

    Ben turned and fixed a stern stare on his elder son.  Adam shrugged and slid toward the back of the wagon and back into silence.

    “I guess we will just have to squeeze together then, like now, oui, Hoss?” Marie giggled, hugging him tighter.

    “We?” Hoss said.  “You mean me and you, Mama?”

    Ben laughed.  “No, Hoss; ‘oui’ means yes in French, and you’d better learn it.  Your new mama uses it a lot.”

    “I do, don’t I?” Marie smiled.  “A old habit.”

    “Don’t bother breaking it,” Ben said.  “I’m rather fond of that habit, and the boys will soon become accustomed to it, right, Hoss?”

    Hoss tittered.  “Oui, Pa.”

    Adam scowled, resolving never to use or respond to the French terminology.  Blamed if he’d let any foreigner change the way he talked!  He conveniently forgot how readily he’d adopted Inger’s Swedish phrases.

    Hoss pointed excitedly ahead as a rough cabin came into view on the far horizon.  “There, Mama!” he cried.  “That’s Tree!”

    “Tree?” Marie asked inquisitively.

    “Pine Tree Station, to be more precise,” Ben chuckled.  “Hoss shortened it to Tree early on, and we’ve never been able to break him of it.”

    “It needs a better name,” Adam grumbled, making his first contribution in more than half an hour.  He didn’t want the newcomer thinking they were satisfied with anything so prosaic.

    “Yeah, it does,” Ben agreed, then added brightly.  “Perhaps Marie can help us come up with a new name.”

    “Oh, but Ben, I know already,” Marie bubbled.  “You remember that man we met in Panama City, the one who studies trees?”

    “The botanist who was headed back east?  Sure, I remember,” Ben said.

    “Did he not have a special name for the pines he studied in the mountains?”

    “That’s right,” Ben recalled.  “He called them——let’s see——ponderosas, wasn’t it?”

    “Yes, that is it,” Marie cried.  “I remember thinking what a beautiful sound the word had.  Wouldn’t the Ponderosa make a lovely name for our home, where so many pines grow?”

    “The Ponderosa.”  Ben rolled the word across his tongue, liking the feel of it.  “That’s perfect, my love.  What do you think, Adam?”

    “Well, it’s better than Tree,” Adam admitted grudgingly.  He wrapped his arms around his legs, holding himself tight.  It wouldn’t do to admit how much he liked the name.  Not when she’d chosen it.  Of course, it was really that unknown botanist who had provided the terminology, and the scientific basis for the ranch’s new name was what appealed to Adam.  He couldn’t afford to let his father’s wife know he liked it, though.  Might make her feel he was warming to her, and Adam had no intention of doing that.  “Likely we won’t get Hoss to use a long word like that, though,” he grumbled.

    “Yes, I will,” Hoss declared defensively.  “I ain’t a baby no more.  I can say Ponderosa, so there!”

     Ben winced at Hoss’s slaughter of English grammar.  He should have corrected it, of course, but not today.  Considering that Hoss was the only one of his sons giving Marie an unreserved welcome to the family, Ben hadn’t the heart to find the slightest fault with him.  A good thing, though, that the boy would be off to school in a few months.  His grammar needed attention.

    Ben reined the team to a halt before the door of his three-room cabin.  “Well, here we are,” he announced with forced enthusiasm.  Suddenly, presenting the cabin to his bride, Ben realized how woefully inadequate it was to anything but a bachelor’s use.  What would Marie think of her hero now that he was offering her a shack to live in?

    Looking at her new home, Marie’s heart dropped.  It was, as Adam had said, much smaller than the Thomas cabin.  “Well, let us see the inside,” she remarked, keeping her voice lilting to cover any disillusionment she felt.

    Ben smiled ruefully and helped her down.  Hoss jumped off the wagon seat and raced around the front of the team.  Grabbing Marie’s hand, he pulled her toward the door.  “Come on, I’ll show you around,” he offered.

    Ben released Marie to her new guide, then turned to Adam.  “Coming in, son?”

    Adam dropped over the side of the wagon.  “I’ll unhitch the team; someone needs to,” he said.

    Ben nodded quietly, guessing the real motive behind Adam’s helpfulness.  But, motive aside, the work did need to be done.  “Yeah, you do that,” he suggested, “and we’ll see you inside later.”  Ben went into the cabin and found Hoss eagerly pointing out its features to his new mother.  Marie was looking around the main room, the dismay on her face unconcealable.

    Ben crossed the room quickly to take her in his arms.  “I’m sorry,” he said.  “You deserve so much better than this.”

    “Don’t you like it?” Hoss murmured, worry furrowing his brow.

    “Mais oui,” Marie whispered, her tone more one of concern for the child than one of conviction.  “It is a good home, but I am glad we are already planning one where we will have more room.”

    Hoss looked puzzled.  Unlike his father and brother, he’d never quite understood the need for a bigger house.  This one had always seemed fine to him, but maybe it would be extra crowded with a fourth person living here.  Yeah, that must be it; that must be what his new mother meant.  “We’ll build it fast, huh, Pa?”

    “Fast as we can,” Ben chuckled.  He looked apologetically into his bride’s green eyes.  “Think you can make out here a few months?”

    “But, of course,” Marie declared.  “Now, where is the kitchen, Ben?”

    Ben’s mouth twisted awry.  “You’re in it,” he said softly.

    “But—but where is the stove?” Marie asked urgently, her face almost frantic.  “Where do you cook?”  As Ben pointed to the open fire, she collapsed in a chair beside the table.  “Oh, Ben,” she cried, “I do not know if I can.”

    “Sure, you can,” Ben said encouragingly.  “It can’t be all that different from cooking on a stove.”

    Marie looked dubious.  She ran her finger along the edge of the table, leaving a trail in the dust.  She frowned at Ben.

    “Sorry about the dust,” he said, “but no one’s lived here while I’ve been away.”

    “Well, dust, at least, I know how to deal with,” Marie said, standing.  “If I could have some water—”

    “I’ll fetch a pail,” Hoss said, eager to help.

    Ben beamed his approval.  “Good boy.”  He turned to Marie.  “I should let my foreman know I’m back and see how things have gone in my absence.”

    “Of course, Ben, please go about your work,” she urged.  “I have plenty to keep me busy here, and I’m sure Hoss will give me all the help I need.”  She was suddenly aware of the absence of the other member of the family.  “But where is Adam?  Has he run away again?”

    “No, no,” Ben assured her.  “He’s busy in the barn.  I’ll bring back a couple of men from the bunkhouse to help Adam and me unload our belongings.”

    “There is no hurry,” Marie said with a weak smile.  “I do not want my things brought in until the house is clean.”

    Ben winced.  “Maybe I’d better put them in the barn for now.”

    Marie nodded, her eyes at last lighting with a twinkle of amusement.  “Just bring me something plainer to change into, s’il vous plait.”

    “Right away,” Ben said.

    Hoss soon returned, lugging two full pails of water.  Marie, now dressed in a brown-sprigged calico with cream-colored apron, took one from him.  “My, what a strong boy you are, Hoss!”

    Hoss squared his shoulders proudly.  “I’m a big boy, and I can be lots of help.”

    “Yes, I will need lots of help,” Marie said.  “Did you ever see such dust?”

    “Lots of times,” Hoss offered ingenuously.

    Marie tittered.  “Oh, Hoss, you are a priceless jewel,” she said, giving him a hug.  “Now, where shall we start?  With the table, I suppose.  We must eat before we sleep, oui?”

    “Oui,” Hoss agreed.

    “I will need soap and a scrub brush.”

    “I’ll get ‘em,” Hoss offered.

    Adam appeared in the doorway.  “Pa said to ask if you needed anything,” he muttered.

    “Well, I could clean better with hot water,” Marie replied. “Do you know how to build a fire, Adam?”

    “Well, sure,” Adam declared, his tone implying that anyone who couldn’t was no smarter than a jackass.

    “I would appreciate it,” Marie said, offering him a smile.

    Adam shrugged and went to bring in the needed wood.  Marie didn’t ask for anything else, so he wandered back outside, scuffing at the dust with his boots until his father returned and they began to unload the boxes and bundles from the buckboard.

    Inside, Hoss and Marie made a concerted attack on the piled up dust, and before long the front room looked better than it had since the day the three Cartwrights moved in.  Marie fingered the curtains at the windows.  “Who made these, Hoss?” she asked.  “Your mother?”

    “Unh-uh,” Hoss said.  “Aunt Nelly.”

    “Aunt Nelly?” Marie queried.  “Mrs. Thomas is your aunt?  But Ben called them friends, not family.”

    “I don’t know,” Hoss said.  “Better ask Pa.”

    “I will,” Marie smiled.  “She did a nice job with these curtains, but they have not been washed for some time, I think.”  She didn’t add “probably never,” but their condition implied that the curtains had never seen a wash tub.  To be expected, she supposed, with only a man and two boys to do the housework after their other chores.  Well, she’d rectify that as soon as she could.  Not tonight, though.  “Time to work on the bedrooms,” she told Hoss cheerfully.

    “Okay,” Hoss agreed.  “Wanna see mine first?”

    “By all means,” Marie laughed.  She followed the boy through the first room into the one beyond.  She looked approvingly at the two beds, each with a small chest at its foot.  One bed sported a rack of antlers above its head.

    “That one’s Adam’s,” Hoss informed, following her line of vision.  “Mine’s over here.”

    “You boys keep your things neatly put away,” she praised.

    “Not always,” Hoss admitted.  “Pa made us clean up extra good before we left.”

    Marie touched the quilt covering Hoss’s bed.  “More of Mrs. Thomas’s work?”

    Hoss shook his head.  “I think Mama——my mama, I mean——made those.”

    Marie smiled tenderly at him.  “They are beautiful,” she said.  “Your mama was a good seamstress.  See the tiny stitches she used.”  She took the boy’s hand.  “Do you remember much about your mother, Hoss?”

    “Don’t ‘member her at all,” Hoss answered.  “I was a baby when she died.  She was pretty, though; Pa’s got a picture of her——Adam’s mother, too.”

    “I saw them on the mantel,” Marie said quietly.  “Your mother is the one with hair light like yours, oui?  She was pretty, Hoss.”

    “Yeah, but not pretty as you,” Hoss said with a grin.

    Marie laughed and gave him a hug.  “Well, like the curtains, these quilts need washing, but that is too big a job for today.  Let’s take them outside and give them a good shaking, though, to get rid of some of the dust.”

    “Okay, I’ll take mine,” Hoss offered.  Marie nodded, picking up Adam’s quilt.  As she passed back into the other bedroom, the one that must be hers and Ben’s, she paused to take the quilt from that bed as well.  She halted with a frown.  This bed was as narrow as either of the boy’s.  Obviously, it hadn’t been built for two.  Marie sighed.  Another problem to solve.  But that one she would have to leave to Ben.  Turning her attention to the one she could solve, Marie carried the two quilts outside.

    The sun was beginning to dip behind the western mountains by the time the house was cleaned to Marie’s temporary satisfaction.  She sat wearily in a chair at the table and stared into the fire, contemplating the biggest problem she’d yet faced.

    Hoss, standing beside her, patted her arm.  “Tired, Mama?” he asked solicitously.

    Marie smiled at him.  “Not half as much as I would be without your help.  But now it is time to cook supper, and I have never cooked over an open fire.  I do not even know what there is to prepare.”

    “I like pie best,” Hoss suggested.

    Marie laughed.  “There is no oven, Hoss.  How could I make pie?”

    Hoss shrugged.  “I don’t know much about cookin’, Mama.”

    “Where would your father keep meat, if he had any?” she asked.

    “Oh, that’s easy,” Hoss said.  “In the root cellar.  There’s lots more food in there.”

    Marie stood at once.  “Show me this root cellar,” she said.

    Hoss trotted to the door to comply and met his father coming in with Adam.  “Mama wants some meat to cook, Pa,” Hoss announced.

    “You and Adam bring some salt pork and potatoes from the cellar,” his father dictated.  When they disappeared, Ben crossed the room to give Marie a kiss.  “The house looks so much better already,” he praised.  “You’ve been working hard.”

    “Yes, but the hardest work is just ahead, I fear,” Marie sighed, casting a discouraged glance at the fireplace.

    Ben’s arm slipped to her waist to give her an encouraging hug.  “We’ll keep it simple tonight.  Just fry some salt pork and potatoes and stir up a batch of cornbread.  You can handle that, can’t you?”

    “Well—” Marie murmured uncertainly.

    “Oh, of course, you can,” Ben assured her.  “Is there anything you’d like brought inside now that the place is clean?”

    “That trunk of dresses I had made in St. Joseph,” Marie replied.  “I don’t suppose I’ll have any use for the silks and satins out here, so they might as well stay in the barn.”

    Ben chucked her delicate chin.  “Don’t be so sure.  We throw a fandango or two even here in the wilderness, and, of course, you’ll want nice clothes for our trips to San Francisco.”

    Marie laughed.  “Oh, Ben, I did not mean to complain.  But there is no room for unneeded clothes in here.  If you could find the bundle of spices I brought from the market, I am sure I can find a place for those.”

    “Your wish is my command, fair princess,” Ben smiled.

    Adam and Hoss entered just as their father left, bringing the supplies he had ordered.  Marie took them, then stared perplexedly at the boys.  “How—how does your father cook this salt pork and potatoes?” she asked nervously.

    “Can’t you cook?” Adam jeered.  “I thought all ladies could cook.”

    “Of course, I can cook,” Marie sputtered, her color rising, “but I am used to different foods.”  She turned to Hoss.  “Can you answer my question?”

    “Well, Pa kinda chunks ‘em up and fries ‘em,” Hoss offered.

    “That does not sound too difficult,” Marie said tentatively, taking the food to the counter just left of the fireplace.

    “I’ll get a knife,” Hoss said.

    Marie spun around.  “No, Hoss!” she cried.

    Adam grabbed Hoss’s arm.  “You know better than that!” he yelled.  “Pa never lets you touch knives.”

    Marie pulled Adam’s fingers from his brother’s arm.  “There is no need to be so harsh,” she said.  “Hoss was only trying to help.  Why don’t you find a sharp knife for me?”

    “Sure,” Adam muttered.  Giving Hoss a disapproving scowl, he found the knife and slapped it on the counter.

    Marie frowned at the boy’s obvious distemper, but she resolved to say nothing.  No mere words would win Adam’s heart, she was sure, but perhaps if she responded to his rudeness with courtesy and kindness, he would at length relent.  “Thank you, Adam,” she said, in her sweetest voice.

    Adam shrugged and walked away.  He sat in a chair and watched as Marie diced the salt pork and potatoes and poured them into a frying pan.  When she stooped to hold it over the fire, he laughed with derisive harshness.  “You really don’t know anything, do you?” he ridiculed.

    Marie stood and spun around, facing him with one hand on her hip, the other trembling under the weight of the panful of pork and potatoes.  “If you know better what to do, you should tell me.”

    Adam placed the metal grate over the fire.  “Anybody ought to know better than to squat and hold the pan the way you were,” he taunted.  “How would you cook anything else?”

    “Yes, that is better.  Thank you, Adam,” Marie said again, but there was less sweetness in her tone this time.  “Do you also know how to bake cornbread without an oven?”

    “In the spider, of course,” Adam scoffed.  “Anybody—”

    “Yes, I know, anybody should know that!” Marie snapped.  “So you have said.”

    Ben walked in and his eyebrows met in a straight line.  “What’s going on?” he demanded.

    “J—just showing her how to use a spider,” Adam stammered defensively.  He glanced anxiously at Marie.

    “Yes,” Marie said quickly.  “Both the boys have helped me much this day.”

    “Yeah, I can see that,” Ben grunted.  He gave Adam a hard look, certain ‘helpful’ wasn’t the best description of his behavior.  Marie obviously wanted to shelter Adam, though, and for now Ben would allow it.  Adam had been hurt by the sudden announcement of his father’s marriage and needed time to heal.

    Marie tried hard to prepare a good meal for her new family, but the results were less than tasty.  Distracted over baking the cornbread in the unaccustomed way, she neglected to stir the main dish often enough, and it came out blackened on one side, underdone on the other.  She didn’t know to heap coals on the lid of the spider, either, so only the underside of the cornbread baked, leaving raw dough on top.  In her frustration, she also prepared the coffee with habitual French strength.

    Ben and Hoss made a stalwart effort to eat what was put before them, but Adam impatiently pushed the plate aside.  “This is awful,” he declared.

    “Adam,” Ben chided.

    “Well, it is!” the boy snapped.  “You want me to lie?”

    “I want you to watch your tone, boy!” Ben shouted.

    Marie threw her hands to her cheeks and fled from the house.

    Ben flung his fork to the table.  “Now, look what you’ve done!” he growled.  He stalked outside, slamming the door.

    “Why’d you talk ugly to her?” Hoss, almost in tears, demanded.

    “She’s stupid,” Adam groused.  “Can’t even cook.”

    “She’ll learn,” Hoss said.  “I bet she learns fast.”

    “You’re stupid, too,” Adam taunted.  “She’ll learn to cook about as quick as you learn to read.”

    Hoss’s cheeks puffed out with anger.  He knew he wasn’t as smart as Adam, but he didn’t like being twitted about his slowness.  Adam had never done that before.  “Take it back,” he ordered through gritted teeth.

    “Make me,” Adam sneered.

    Hoss lunged at him and soon the brothers were wrestling, knocking over chairs and sending plates rattling to the floor.

    Outside, Ben found Marie staring up at the stars.  He wrapped his arms around her.  “You shouldn’t come out without a shawl,” he whispered.  “The nights can get cool, even in summer.”

    “Not as cool as in the house,” Marie replied tensely.  “Icicles wouldn’t melt in there.”

    “You’ve had a hard day,” Ben said, “and Adam’s behavior has made it more so.”

    “It has,” Marie agreed, “but he is right about dinner.  I ruined everything, and I am the one who is sorry about that.  I am sorry, too, than I have come between you and your son.”  A sob caught in her throat.

    Hearing it, Ben turned her around and wiped the tears from her face.  “The only person who owes anyone an apology is Adam, and I’ll see to it he gives it to you.”

    “No, Ben, please no,” Marie wept.  “That will only make more distance between us.”

    “I won’t have him thinking such behavior is acceptable,” Ben said firmly.  “I ought to blister his britches for the way he’s acted.”

    “No, Ben,” Marie pleaded.

    “No, for your sake, I won’t,” Ben promised, “but he will wash up the supper dishes.  He deserves that much discipline.  Let’s go back in now and salvage what we can of dinner.”

    “You go,” Marie said.  “I would like to soak in the peace of the trees and the stars a little longer.”

    Ben nodded, gave her a tender kiss and went back inside.  What he saw the moment he opened the door made him wish that he, too, had remained beneath the peaceful, starlit trees.  “What in the world!” he hollered, stomping across the room to grab one boy in each hand.

    The fight died out of both youngsters as soon as they saw their father’s livid face.  “S—sorry, Pa,” Hoss stammered at once.

    Ben rounded on Adam.  “What’s this about?” he demanded.  “Hasn’t there been enough unpleasantness today to suit you, boy?  You have to add fighting to it?”

    “He threw the first punch,” Adam fumed.  Pa was acting like the whole thing was his fault!

    “He called Mama stupid,” Hoss yelled, “and he called me stupid, too——too stupid to learn to read!”

    Ben glared angrily at Adam.  “Is that true?”

    Adam shuffled his feet uneasily.  “Yeah, I guess so.”

    Ben planted both palms on his hips.  “The only reason you’re not getting a whipping this minute is because your mother—”

    “She’s not my mother!” Adam screamed.

    “Because your mother begged me not to,” Ben finished, uttering each word distinctly.  “You will, however, clear the table and wash the dishes.  Then, since you’re so much smarter than anyone else, you can prepare breakfast in the morning and do the cleanup then, too.”

    “All right,” Adam sputtered.  At least, we’ll eat better, he told himself, chin jutting up proudly.

    Ben turned to Hoss.  “Defending your mother shows your heart is in the right place, Hoss,” he said gently, “but it doesn’t excuse your fighting with Adam.”

    “Yes, sir, Pa; I’m sorry,” the youngster replied readily.

    “Well, you tell Adam you’re sorry, then I think you’d better go on to bed.”

    “Yes, sir.  I’m sorry, Adam.”

    Adam stopped clearing the table long enough to nod curtly.  “Yeah, me, too, Hoss.  I’m sorry I hit you.”

    Ben nodded his approval at both boys, then took Marie’s shawl from the peg where she’d hung it and carried it outside.  He placed it over her shoulders and they walked into the woods with his arms around her.  “It is as beautiful as you promised,” Marie whispered.  “Trees that touch the sky.”

    “You’re not sorry you came?” Ben asked, brushing a wisp of golden hair from her cheek.

    Marie shook her head.  “One day’s hardship would scarcely make me forget your love or mine for you.  I only hope I can make tomorrow better.”

    “We’ll all work at that,” Ben pledged.  He yawned.  “You as tired as I am?”

    Marie nodded, laying her head against his shoulder.  “Do you think it is safe to go inside?”

    “Of course, it’s safe,” Ben sputtered.  “I won’t allow Adam—”

    Marie laughed.  “It was not Adam’s temper I was worried about, Ben, but mine.”

    Ben smiled.  “It seems well in hand.  We should go in now, I think.  I sent Hoss to bed, and I’d like to tuck him in before he falls asleep.”

    “Oh, yes, that I would like, too,” Marie murmured contentedly.  “He, at least, loves me.”

    “And Adam soon will,” Ben said as they turned their steps back to the cabin.

    Adam continued washing the dishes without looking up when they entered.  Ignoring him, Ben and Marie went through their bedroom and into Hoss’s.  “We wanted to say good-night, mon cher,” Marie said, tucking his covers snug and bending to place a kiss on his forehead.

    Hoss grinned, though he looked puzzled.  “Is that more French talk?” he asked.

    Marie laughed lightly.  “Oui.  It means ‘my dear one.’  I could think of no better name for you.”

    “I like it,” Hoss announced.

    “And I like Mama,” Marie responded, kissing him once again.  “It is a word I have wanted to hear for a very long time.”

    “Sleep tight,” Ben said, patting Hoss’s head.  Hoss rolled over and sank deeper into his pillow as Ben and Marie walked softly out.

    In the next room Marie frowned at the narrow bed.  “I meant to ask earlier, Ben,” she began, “but what are we to do about this?”

    “About what?” Ben asked with childlike innocence.

    Marie rolled her eyes.  “The bed, Ben.  You did not build it with a wife in mind, I think.”

    Ben’s face fell.  “Oh, no, you’re right about that.  Well, I guess we’ll have to snuggle close,” he suggested with an uneasy laugh.

    Marie giggled.  “We can try, I suppose, but I think something will need to be done before many nights pass.”

    “Tomorrow,” Ben promised.  “I’ll ride over and see if Clyde can help me work it out.”

    Adam appeared in the doorway.  “Dishes are done,” he reported.  “Can I stay up and read in the front room?”

    “No, you go on to bed,” Ben ordered.  “We’ve all had a tiring day, and you have to be up early to fix breakfast.”

    “Yes, sir,” Adam mumbled and slid past to his own room.

    “More punishment,” Marie asked, “or are you afraid of my cooking?”

    Ben laughed and, pulling her down onto the bed, began to nibble her ear.

    “Ben,” she hissed softly, “let me undress first.”  Ben chuckled and released her.  She slipped into her filmy, beige nightdress and joined him in the bed.  Try as they might, however, they couldn’t get comfortable in such tight quarters.  Finally, Marie sat up.  “This is impossible, Ben,” she cried.

    Cramped against the wall, Ben gingerly raised himself on one elbow.  “I’ve got an idea,” he said.  “I’ll be right back.”

    Marie rose to let him out of bed, then watched with bewilderment as he stripped the blankets and sheets and carried them outside.  Were they to sleep under the stars as they had on the journey from Placerville?  She sighed.  She was weary of bedding on rough ground, but even that was no doubt preferable to squeezing together in such a small space.

    Ben returned as promised, wrapped her shawl around her and led her out to the barn.  “Here, with the animals?” she asked.

    “They won’t look,” Ben teased, as he eased her onto the bed he’d constructed of straw.

    “Umm, it is soft,” Marie sighed.  She stretched her arms up to Ben.  “It wants only you beside me to make it the best of beds.”

    Ben removed his trousers and crawled beneath the covers to hold her almost as closely as had been necessary in the narrow bed in the house.

    They returned laughing to the cabin the next morning, Marie still pulling wisps of hay from her hair.  Hoss, in his nightshirt, immediately ran to engulf her in a chubby-armed hug.  “Mama!” he cried.  “I was scared you’d gone away!”

    Marie stooped to gather him in her arms.  “I will never go away, mon cher,” she cried and covered his cheeks with kisses.  Adam clinched his teeth and took a vicious stab at the bacon sizzling in the skillet.

    Marie went into the bedroom to dress while Ben heated water with which to shave.  Hoss hustled to his room to pull on shirt and pants.

    Soon everyone was gathered around the breakfast table.  Marie heaped praise on Adam’s culinary efforts, but he made no response.  When he finished, Ben wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.  “I’m going over to the Thomases, boys,” he announced.  “You stay here and help Mama all you can.”

    “I am going with you, Ben,” Marie said quietly.

    “There’s no need,” Ben said.  “I thought you’d want to get more settled here.”

    “I am going with you, Ben,” she repeated firmly.

    Ben saw something in her face that troubled him, but he couldn’t read its meaning.  “All right,” he said.  “I’ll hitch the buckboard, then.”

    “I’ll help, Pa,” Hoss offered.  “Adam’s got dishes to do.”  There was just a trace of condescension in his voice.  Adam heard it, but bit his tongue.  No need to say anything now; he could repay Hoss’s sass after the grownups were gone.

    As soon as the buckboard rolled away, Adam took Hoss by one arm and dragged him to the fireplace.  Pulling Inger’s picture from the mantel, he shoved it in Hoss’s face.  “That’s your mama,” he lectured.

    “I know,” Hoss said, his nose crinkling with bewilderment.

    “Couldn’t tell it to hear you talk,” Adam ranted.  “Giving her name to this—this——you ought to be ashamed, Hoss.”

    “You—you think she’d mind?” Hoss whimpered, his blue eyes filling.

    Seeing the tears, Adam felt a moment’s remorse.  “It’s just plain wrong, Hoss, whether she’d mind or not.  She was the best mother there ever was, and you don’t need this new one.”

    “Yes, I do,” Hoss cried.  “I do need her, and I like her, too, and she’s gonna bake me special cookies like they have in New Orleans and—”

    “Cookies!” Adam snorted.  “Is that all you ever think about, filling your fat belly?”

    “No!” Hoss yelled.  “But I don’t see why I can’t have cookies and things like kids with mothers get all the time.  Why you gotta spoil everything?”

    Adam grabbed a pail from beside the door.  “Oh, go milk the cow,” he ordered grumpily.  What was the use arguing with Hoss?  He was just too young to understand.

    Hoss jerked the pail from Adam’s hand.  He was only too glad to get away from his touchy older brother.

    As Ben helped Marie from the buckboard, Nelly came out to meet them.  “Lands, didn’t expect to see you two again so soon,” she laughed.  Then the smile faded from her lips.  Something was wrong.  “Come inside, honey lamb,” she cooed as gently as she might have soothed her daughter Inger.

    “I—uh—I need to speak to Clyde,” Ben said awkwardly.  He and Marie had ridden in virtual silence, so he knew something was bothering his wife, and the fact that she obviously intended to tell Nelly Thomas what she refused to tell him was disconcerting.

    “Up to the trading post,” Nelly said, waving him off.  She drew Marie inside and closed the door.  “What is it?” she asked, taking the girl’s face between her motherly hands.

    Marie burst into tears.  “Oh, I do not know what to do,” she cried.

    “Is it Adam?” Nelly asked.  “Is he still actin’ fractious?”

    Marie nodded, then contradicted the gesture by wailing, “No!”

    Nelly folded the girl into her arms and let her weep herself quiet.  “Now, which is it?” she asked, smiling.  “Yes or no?”

    Marie gave a nervous giggle.  “Adam is difficult, yes, but that is not why I came.  It is—there is——no stove!”  She threw her hands over her eyes and wept profusely.

    Nelly’s womanly heart understood at once.  “Ooh, that Ben!” she fumed.  “Isn’t it just like a man to take a wife without stopping to think that he wasn’t set up for one.”

    Marie wiped her eyes.  “Well, I did not think, either,” she said, “not of practical things.  We thought only of our love for one another.”

    “Well, that’s natural in the first blush of romance,” Nelly comforted, “but it’s time to think of practical things now.  There’s no reason in the world Ben can’t provide you a stove, and I’m going to see to it he does.  Should have picked one up when he came through California, but I reckon it never crossed his mind.”

    “Nor mine,” Marie said, catching her breath at last.

    “Well, why should it, honey lamb?” Nelly said.  “You didn’t know what things were like out here, but Ben did.  It’s the man that’s at fault here, like they usually are.  You leave Ben to me.”

    “He—he is asking Clyde to help about our bed,” Marie stammered.  “We—we had to sleep in the barn last night.”

    Nelly laughed.  “Lands, I never thought of that.  When Clyde and Ben built that bed, they didn’t plan on anyone usin’ it but Ben.  But don’t you worry, honey lamb; Clyde will know how to fix that quick as a wink.  Now I’m goin’ up to the tradin’ post to give Ben a earful.  Could you watch Inger for me?”

    “Of course,” Marie said, smiling at the sweet-faced child with strawberry blonde hair.  “But, please, do not be too hard on Ben.  He is only a man and does not think.”

    “They never do,” Nelly said flatly.  Within minutes she burst through the door of the trading post and backed Ben up against a wall.  “Of all the empty-headed notions,” she scolded, “how could you expect a city-bred gal to cook without a proper stove?”

    “Oh, yeah, well, I guess I wasn’t thinking,” Ben admitted.  “Is that what she’s upset about?”

    “Among other things,” Nelly spewed, “but this one you can fix, and you’re going to.”

    “Tell me how,” Ben pleaded.  “I don’t want her to be unhappy.”

    “Well, she’s going to be unhappy until she can make a proper home for you, cook and clean the way a wife should.  That’s important to a woman, Ben, especially a new bride,” Nelly explained.  “Now you can just turn around and head your wagon for Sacramento and bring back a stove and some decent cooking utensils.”

    “You mean right now, woman?” Clyde demanded.  “Without so much as a change of clothes?”

    “Oh, I reckon it’ll wait ‘til morning,” Nelly conceded, “but don’t dilly-dally, Ben.”

    “We’ll go tomorrow,” Ben said.  “I hate to impose again so soon, but I guess we’ll need to leave the boys with you.”

    Nelly faced him, arms akimbo.  “No need,” she said.  “You’re the only one travelin’.  Their new mother can look after the boys, and there’s plenty for her to do here to make your house her home.”

    “Nelly, she—she can’t cook,” Ben protested, “and Adam’s been pretty vocal about it.”

    “You tend to Adam’s mouth, and I’ll see to Marie,” Nelly said.  “I can teach her enough to get by until you get back, and I’ll make up a list of what I expect you to bring back for her.  You’ve got money enough, so don’t you quibble about any of it, Ben Cartwright!”

    “Yes, ma’am!”  Ben tapped his heels together and gave her a snappy salute.

    “Ooh, men!” Nelly stormed and stomped out.

    Ben’s trip to Sacramento proved unnecessary, however.  When his foreman, Enos Montgomery, heard that Ben planned to leave again so soon, he offered to go in his employer’s stead.  That seemed a better plan to Ben, since he could then be available to ease his wife’s adjustment to her new home and to serve as a buffer to Adam’s continued hostility.

    “Oh, that will be much better,” Marie cried with relief when Ben told her.  “I hope it is not too much imposition on Monsieur Montgomery.”

    “No, as a matter of fact, I think he relished the idea of a few days off in the big city,” Ben said.  “This way, too, I can be here for Hoss’s birthday.”

    “Is it soon?” Marie asked with quick interest.

    “Next Wednesday,” Ben replied.

    Marie clapped her hands with childlike delight.  “Oh, we must plan a celebration!”

    “Why, yes, we should,” Ben agreed.  His smile broadened as an idea struck him.  “I know just the thing.”  Marie gave him eager attention.  “The last few years we’ve made a trip up to Tahoe for the Fourth of July, but I was gone this year.  Why don’t we do that for Hoss’s birthday, instead?”

    “Where is this Tahoe?” Marie inquired.  “Is it far?”

    “Not too far,” Ben replied.  “It’s a beautiful alpine lake up in the mountains.  We usually take a picnic lunch and spend the day swimming and fishing.  The boys love going there.”

    “Oh, yes, that sounds perfect,” Marie said.  “May I tell Hoss right away?  He seems a little down-hearted today.”

    “Oh?”  Ben’s brow furrowed, then cleared.  “I bet I know what’s wrong.  I suspect Hoss is unhappy because he senses that you’ve been upset.”

    “Oh,” Marie sighed.  “I am sure you are right; he is such a tender-hearted little boy.  I must go at once and tell him that all is well and that we have planned a wonderful celebration for his birthday.”

    “You do that,” Ben said.  “I’ve got to get this list of supplies to Enos.  Nelly Thomas will never forgive me if an item gets overlooked.”

    Marie laughed and went to the barn in search of Hoss.

    The little boy looked up from his stool beside the milk cow as she came in.  “I’m almost through, ma’am,” he said quietly.

    For a moment Marie looked hurt, but, setting aside the pang in her own heart, she walked to the boy’s side and ran slender fingers through his wheat-colored hair.  “That is fine, Hoss,” she said softly, “but what does this ‘ma’am’ mean?  Yesterday you called me Mama, and I so liked the sound of that.”

    Hoss sighed deeply.  “Me, too,” he said sadly, “but Adam says I shouldn’t.”

    “Adam?” Marie cried.  “Pourquoi?”  Realizing she’d lapsed into a language Hoss couldn’t understand, she translated.  “Why, Hoss?”

    Hoss’s lower lip trembled.  “He—he thinks my mother wouldn’t like it.”

    Marie stooped to put her arms around the torn child.  “This is why you are so unhappy?  Because of Adam’s words?”

    Hoss nodded mutely, his eyes brimming with unshed tears.  “I—I like havin’ a mama here instead of in heaven, but I don’t wanna hurt her.”

    Marie hugged him to her breast.  “Oh, Hoss, to love me will not hurt her,” she declared.  “May I tell you a secret?”  Hoss’s fat chin bobbed.  Marie blinked back the mist in her eyes.  “I had a little boy once, Hoss,” she said quietly.

    “Where is he?” Hoss asked.

    “In heaven, like your mother,” Marie said.  “I miss him so much, but I know he is happy where he is and glad for me to have another little boy to love.  I am sure it is the same with your mother.”

    Hoss’s chubby face began to brighten.  “You—you think——maybe——my mama could take care of your little boy for you, and you could take care of me for her.”

    “Oh, mon cher, I am sure that is just what God has planned,” Marie said.  “It will make us all happy, oui?”

    “Oui!” Hoss grinned.  His face sobered for a moment.  “I’m sorry about your little boy.  I’d’ve liked a little brother.”

    Marie laughed and kissed his cheek.  “Well, perhaps in time I shall give you one, mon cher, but today I have a different sort of present.  That is why I came to seek you, so I could tell you of our plans for your birthday.”

    “Yeah?  You gonna bake me a cake?” Hoss asked, then he bit his tongue.  “Oops, I guess you can’t, not without a stove.”

    Marie sighed.  “No, I don’t think I would know how to do that over an open fire.  I am sorry my cooking is so bad now, Hoss, but it will be better soon, I promise.”

    “That’s okay,” Hoss assured her.  “Tell me about my birthday.”

    “Your father thought we might go to Lake Tahoe for a picnic and swimming and fishing,” Marie explained.  “You would like that?”

    Hoss almost bounced in her arms.  “Yeah!  I missed goin’ on the Fourth.  And will the Thomases go with us?  They usually do.”

    “We will see if they can,” Marie promised, “and perhaps Mrs. Thomas could help with the picnic, as her cooking is so good.  Let us take this milk inside now and think what we can do about dinner.”

    Hoss stood and picked up the pail of milk.  “Okay, Mama,” he replied, and they both exchanged a smile, enjoying the sound of that sweet name.

    Ben returned to help Marie prepare the meal.  A simple repast was soon ready and the Cartwrights gathered around the table.  Ben offered grace over the meal, but few other words were spoken.  Adam had been sullenly silent at every meal since Marie arrived, but today Marie sat wordless, as well.  Only Hoss had much to offer to the conversation.  Excited about the celebration planned for his birthday, he chattered happily about the big fish he planned to catch the following week.

    When everyone had eaten, Marie stood.  “Ben, may I have a word with you?”

    “Of course,” Ben said, eyes narrowing in concern.

    “Outside, please,” Marie said and preceded him through the door.

    Ben followed, worrying creasing his brow.  “Is something wrong?  Hoss seems happy again.”

    “Yes,” Marie said, “but that is no thanks to his brother.  Ben, I think you must speak to Adam.”

    Ben sighed.  “What’s he done now?  I thought he’d been working away from the house this afternoon.”

    “He has not been here,” Marie said.  “The damage must have been done while we were away.  He has said things to Hoss that are inexcusable, Ben.”

    Ben’s visage grew stern.  “What kind of things?”

    “That Hoss must not love me or call me Mama because this would displease his mother in heaven,” Marie sputtered.  “I know Adam dislikes me, but I had not thought him cruel enough to ruin a little boy’s happiness.”

    Ben was shocked.  “I wouldn’t have believed him capable of that, either!  You’re sure?”

    Marie flared.  “It is what Hoss says.”

    “Well, Hoss is young; he could have misunderstood,” Ben suggested, wanting to give his older boy every benefit of the doubt.

    “Do you really believe that?” Marie demanded hotly.

    Ben glanced away for a moment, then met her stare directly.  “No, no, I don’t.  It looks like I’ll have to have a very necessary little talk with that young man, after all.”

    “Yes, do,” Marie urged, not understanding that Ben was implying a spanking rather than a conversation.  “You must make Adam understand that whatever his feelings, Hoss has a right to different ones.”

    “Oh, he’ll understand that, I assure you,” Ben promised.  “He will definitely understand that!”  He stalked to the cabin door.  “Adam, get out here!” he yelled.

    Adam, who’d been helping Hoss clear the table, dragged reluctant steps outside.  He wasn’t sure what the problem was, but his father’s furious face plainly spoke the existence of one.  What could that hateful woman have told Pa to make him so suddenly angry?

    Adam soon learned the source of his father’s ire and felt its fury at the end of a birch switch.  He readily admitted his wrongdoing in regard to Hoss, but continued obdurate in his attitude toward Marie.  She was the one who’d forced Pa to give him this whipping when Pa knew he was too grown up for one.  She was the one who’d caused the problem in the first place, wedging her way into their lives, getting between him and Pa, him and Hoss.  Everything was her fault.  Adam knew marriage was a lifelong commitment in his father’s book, so, unfortunately, there’d be no getting rid of the interfering outsider, but Adam had every intention of doing whatever he could to make her life as miserable as she had made his.
 
 

Ben leaned back against the granite boulder shaded by a giant ponderosa pine.  Below him, at the lake’s edge, Hoss dangled a fishing pole in the glassy blue water.  Adam, swimming with Billy, was dim in the distance, but Ben could still hear their frolicsome shouts.  How wonderful to hear Adam laugh again.  Ben closed his eyes, relishing the sound.  Then another sound struck his ear.  He turned at the crack of a stick under a boot.

    “Plannin’ to doze off on me, are you?” Clyde snickered, squatting beside Ben.

    “Nope,” Ben chuckled.  “I’m feeling too lazy to make plans, even that kind.”

    Clyde grinned appreciatively.  “Good idea you had, comin’ up here for the youngun’s birthday.”

    Ben nodded.  “Good idea all around.  Marie called it the most beautiful place she’d ever seen, and even Adam seems content today.”

    “Still givin’ you problems?” Clyde asked, a frown furrowing his forehead.

    “Me, no,” Ben sighed, “but he makes things as difficult as he can for Marie.  She’s showing him the patience of an angel, while he—”

    “Acts like a little devil?” Clyde suggested with a rueful grin.

    Ben winced.  “I’d hate to identify any child with that particular personage, but he’s certainly not offering his new mother much of the milk of human kindness.”

    Hoss turned toward his father.  “I give Mama all the milk she needs, Pa,” he called.

    Ben guffawed.  “I didn’t mean cow’s milk, Hoss!”  He tossed a tiny pebble at youngster.  “Now turn around and keep your mind on your fishing instead of eavesdropping.”

    “Little pitcher’s gettin’ an earful, is he?” Clyde sniggered.

    “Morning and night,” Ben muttered.  “No way to protect him from all the unpleasantness.”

    “Sorry things ain’t workin’ out,” Clyde commiserated, “but I reckon Adam’ll come around in time.”

    “I hope so,” Ben said.  “The ladies back yet?”

    “Naw, still out pickin’ strawberries,” Clyde reported.  “Hope they find a bunch.”

    “Not likely this close to the lake,” Ben said.  “The Washos are fond of strawberries, too.”

    “Ain’t seen as many injuns as usual,” Clyde commented.

    “Most have moved into the higher meadows, I think,” Ben yawned.  “Fishing season’s about over, and gathering time started.”

    “You keep up on their doin’s?” Clyde asked.

    Ben shook his head.  “No, not really.  What little I know I learned from Tuquah.”  He laughed loud.  “You should have seen Marie’s face the first time she saw him.  The way she screamed!  You’d have thought the whole tribe was on the warpath.”

    Clyde cackled.  “Like to have seen that!  I reckon your child bride ain’t seen many Indians.”

    Ben smiled.  “Just the tame variety, the kind that sell beads on the street corners of New Orleans.”  Ben grew sober.  “No, the West keeps offering my wife new experiences, and, unfortunately, my older son doesn’t miss a chance to point out her slightest shortcoming in facing them.

    “If you want to get shed of him for a few days, to lighten things up, I’m willin’,” Clyde offered.

    Ben glanced sideways at his friend.  “I may have to take you up on that sometime, but I guess we’ll keep trying for now.  Adam’s at least being civil now, when I’m around to keep him in line, that is.”  He stood quickly.  “Pull him in, Hoss!” he hollered.  “Pull, boy, pull!”  He started to make his way down through the rocks to Hoss, but before he could reach the boy, Hoss toppled into the water.

    Screaming, Hoss frantically flapped his arms.  “Pa!” he sputtered.

    Ben skittered down the rocks as fast as he could, Clyde right behind him.  “Just stand up, Hoss,” he yelled.  The water wasn’t deep here, but to hear Hoss, anyone would have thought he was drowning.  “I’m coming, son,” Ben called, pulling off his boots and slipping into the water.  His bare toes moved tenderly over the pebbly bottom of the lake until he reached Hoss and pulled him into his arms.  “Hoss, you’ve got to get over this fear of the water, son,” Ben said, his voice soothing.  “There’s no reason for it.”

    “I can’t swim, Pa,” Hoss whimpered.  “I just can’t.”

    “You need to learn, Hoss,” Ben persisted.

    Hoss shook his head vehemently.  “I’ll go straight down, Pa,” he whined.  “I weigh too much.”

    “Hoss, that is ridiculous,” Ben said, then stopped.  What was really ridiculous was having this conversation with rock-bruised, freezing feet.  He pulled Hoss over to the lake’s edge and, giving him a boost, handed him up to Clyde.

    “You’re supposed to catch the fishies, Hoss,” Clyde cackled, “not go in to tickle ‘em.”

    “I—I d—didn’t,” a shivering Hoss protested.

    Ben climbed up on the rocks and started to pull off his trousers.  “Get those clothes off and lay them on the rocks to dry, Hoss,” he ordered.  “Then I think Uncle Clyde and I had better help you with the fishing or we’ll never have enough for supper.”

    About half a mile to the south, Marie and Nelly had just stripped the last strawberry from its jagged-leafed vine.  “Not much more than enough to eat for dessert,” Nelly sighed.  “I usually get enough to put up a few pints of jam, but we’re later gettin’ here this year.”

    “But fresh strawberries are a treat just like this,” Marie laughed, popping another between her lips, “and I do not have to cook them.”

    “Cookin’ goin’ any better?” Nelly asked.

    “A little,” Marie said.  “Ben helps quite a bit, which troubles me.”

    “Lands, if you can get a man to help out in the kitchen, let him!” Nelly laughed.

    Marie shook her head sadly.  “It does not lift me in Adam’s eyes.”

    Nelly laid a gentle hand on Marie’s arm.  “Don’t fret, honey lamb,” she soothed.  “I always said there was nothin’ on earth as stubborn as a mule or a Cartwright, and Adam’s just goin’ out of his way to prove it.  He’ll get past it, though.”

    “I hope so,” Marie sighed.

    “Of course, he will,” Nelly said brightly.  “Adam’s a good boy at heart.  I know that’s hard for you to believe right now, but—”

    “Oh, I do believe it,” Marie declared.  “Ben told me such wonderful things about his sons while we traveled here.  Hoss is everything he said, and I am sure Adam is a fine boy, too.  I only hate that my coming here has put such distance between him and Ben.  I think they were very close before.”

    Nelly nodded.  “It’ll work out,” she said.  “I’ll be keepin’ you folks in my prayers.”

    “Please do,” Marie urged.  “A miracle may be precisely what we need.”

    In a sense the miracle for which Marie prayed had already begun to germinate.  Though Adam’s attitude toward her did not change, the trip to Lake Tahoe seemed to remind him that, however dark his altered circumstances appeared, there were still simple joys to be pursued.  And the fact that Clarence Williams was scheduled to arrive only days after Hoss’s birthday expedition gave Adam something else to look forward to and a further motivation to guard his tongue and his behavior.  Ben and Marie both began to breathe a little easier as they saw the boy’s brooding introspection turn outward to more constructive thoughts.

    As promised, the architect appeared at the Cartwright cabin early on the morning of Friday, August 1st.  Ben warmly welcomed him inside.  “You can see why we’re anxious for a larger place,” he laughed as Williams sat at the dining table with all the Cartwrights gathered around him.

    Williams smiled.  “Yes, but this cabin is solidly built, not at all like some of the ramshackle affairs I observed on my journey here.  You are to be commended for that, sir.”

    Ben put an arm around each of his sons.  “You need walls that can take a lot of wear and tear when you have rough fellows like this around,” he chuckled.

    “Aw, Pa,” Hoss took exception.  “We ain’t so rough.”  Laughing, Ben rumpled his hair.

    Mr. Williams opened his portfolio.  “I thought you’d like to see and approve my final drawings,” he said.  “I’ve incorporated the changes we discussed on your last visit to San Francisco.”

    Adam’s visage darkened abruptly.  “What changes?” he demanded.  “Who wanted changes?  Her?”  He gave Marie a venomous glare.

    “Only small changes, Adam,” Marie assured him quickly.  “I love your plans for the house.”

    “What kind of changes?” Adam pressed, eyes flashing.

    “Truly, very small ones,” Williams assured him, disturbed by the commotion he’d innocently caused.  He spread open the diagram of the proposed house’s first floor.  “You see, we’ve added a pump in the kitchen with a sink for washing dishes, etc.”

    “Nothing too drastic about that, is there, Adam?” his father asked.

    Adam shrugged.  “I guess a pump’s all right,” he admitted.  “It would be easier than fetching water every day.”

    “Of course, it would,” Ben said enthusiastically, glad to see his older son grow reasonable.

    Williams pulled out the next sheet, showing the house’s second floor.  “This is the only other change, Adam,” he explained, pointing to the two rooms at one end.

    Ben pointed to the door connecting the two rooms.  “You see, Adam, it only affects my sleeping quarters——and Marie’s, of course.  We’ve just opened this up so we can reach the nursery easily.  That’s what this small room will be, we hope.”

    “A—a nursery?” Adam stammered.  Until that moment he’d not given a thought to the possibility of his father’s having more babies.  Her babies!

    “What’s a nursery, Pa?” Hoss asked, face crinkled in thought.

    “A room for babies, Hoss,” his father explained.

    “Oh!  That’s where my new baby brother’s gonna sleep,” Hoss cried happily.  Adam cut him a sharp glance.  Did Hoss know something he didn’t?

    But Ben was laughing.  “Who says it’ll be a brother, if God does bless us with a child?”

    Hoss grinned.  “I do, and I want the room next to his.”

    “I’ll think about it,” Ben chuckled.  “We thought you’d like this one, across the hall from Adam.”

    Hoss’s lips puckered.  The way Adam had been lately, he wasn’t sure he wanted to sleep close to him.  He didn’t say anthing, though.  Even if he’d been willing to set his older brother off again, he wasn’t the kind of boy who could deliberately hurt anyone.

    Mr. Williams gave a nervous laugh.  “Well—uh—does everything meet with your approval, then?”  He pursed his lips, deliberately avoiding looking at Adam.

    “Looks fine to me,” Ben assured him, then turned hopefully to his older son.  “How about you, Adam?”

    Adam swallowed hard.  The idea of new babies coming along to take away more of his father’s love was a new one, one he didn’t particularly relish, but he was old enough to understand that babies were the natural result of man and woman coming together.  It made sense to plan a place to put them.  “Yeah, I guess so,” he said quietly.

    “Good,” Ben said, relieved.  He turned back to the architect.  “Now, I suppose you’d like to view the proposed site.”

    “Indeed, yes,” Williams said enthusiastically.

    “Oh, let us all go,” Marie said.  “We can pack a lunch and make another picnic of it.”

    “Hooray!” Hoss yelled.  “I’ll drive Mama in the wagon, okay, Pa?”

    Ben patted the boy’s sturdy shoulder.  “Sure, good idea.  The rest of us will ride ahead to give Mr. Williams all the time he needs to get the lay of the land.  Adam, you help Hoss hitch the wagon, then come on.  You should catch up quickly.”  Adam nodded.

    Hoss raced out the door and ran to the barn as fast as his stubby legs would carry him.  Adam followed at a slower pace.  No need to hurry.  The lunch wasn’t packed yet, and, considering how handy that woman was around a kitchen, the team would no doubt stand waiting long enough without rushing to harness them.

    Once the team was ready, Hoss hustled back to the cabin to see if he could help his new mother.

    “I think I will just make some sandwiches from that roast beef we had last night,” Marie said.  “Does that sound good to you?”

    “Yeah, but you better make a bunch, if that’s all we’re havin’,” Hoss urged.

    Marie giggled.  “No, that is not all.  What else can you suggest, Hoss?”

    Hoss thought for a moment.  “There’s still some dried apples.  We could stew ‘em.  And we could take more bread and plum jam, too.”

    “Yes, all that sounds good,” Marie agreed, “and can you find a crock to carry fresh milk in?”

    “Sure, right away,” Hoss said.

    Working together, they soon had the picnic prepared and loaded into the buckboard.  The others had been at the house site about an hour when Hoss reined the horses to a halt.

    Ben came to lift Marie from the wagon.  “Looks like you did a fine job of handling the team, Hoss,” he said, smiling with pride.

    “Oh, he did, Ben,” Marie praised.  “As you told me long ago, he has a gentle touch with animals, and he has given us such a smooth ride.”

    “Good, good,” Ben said, his smile broadening.  He turned and called, “Adam, come help your brother unload the wagon.”

    As Adam shuffled down the hill, Clarence Williams also came to greet the rest of the party.  “You’ve chosen a lovely site for your new home, Mrs. Cartwright,” he enthused.

    “She didn’t choose it,” Adam snapped from the side of the buckboard.

    “No, he is quite right,” Marie said quickly.  “The choice was Adam’s and his father’s, but I am so happy with it.”

    “Me, too,” Hoss chimed in, taking the basket of sandwiches from the wagon.

    “It belongs to all of us,” Ben said, “and we’re all happy with the site.”

    “I’m so glad you’ve already had it cleared,” Williams said.  “I had assumed we still had that work ahead of us, but now we can start digging the foundation tomorrow morning.”

    Marie clapped her hands.  “And finish that much sooner!  Oh, that is wonderful.”  She spread Ben’s worn blue-checked tablecloth on the pine needle-strewn ground and placed the food and plates the boys brought to her.  Ben sat next to her, arm around her waist, as they ate.  Above them mountain bluebirds twittered in the evergreens and violet-green swallows flitted from branch to branch.

    Marie leaned her head against Ben’s shoulder.  “It is so peaceful here,” she murmured.

    Ben squeezed her waist.  “Think you’ll be happy so far from your nearest neighbor?”

    “Not so far,” Marie laughed, pointing to a bluebird nesting above them.  “I think we have excellent neighbors, Ben.”

    “You don’t expect this country to become populous, then?” Williams queried.

    Ben laughed.  “What would draw anyone here?  It’s good grazing land, of course, and cheaper than you’d find in California, but it’s not an easy place to live, as you’ll discover if the snows come before you finish your work.”

    “I will finish it as quickly as possible, then,” Williams smiled.  “I am prepared to winter here, if I must, but I would prefer to be back in California.”

    “Ah, sunny days and gentle nights,” Ben chuckled.

    Williams laughed lightly in response.  “Not at that season,” he said.  “Drizzly days and chilly nights would be a more accurate description of San Francisco in winter.  Still, I find it preferable to six feet of snow.”

    Marie shivered.  “Oh, does it get that deep, Ben?”

    “It can,” he admitted, “but those are the days we cuddle close to the fire, my love.”

    “Ben,” Marie chided softly.  “You speak too plainly.”

    Way too plainly, Adam thought as he snatched another sandwich from the basket and bit savagely into it.  He was the one Pa used to snuggle up with on winter nights.  They’d sit together and read from Shakespeare, oblivious to the howling wind and blowing snow outdoors.  Hoss managed to wedge his way in from time to time, of course, but Adam had a feeling both boys would be left out in the cold this winter.  No Shakespeare, no tales of Pa’s days at sea.  Pa’d probably be too busy making babies to spend any time with his first two sons.  Maybe Hoss wouldn’t be so eager to have a mother or a baby brother once he realized he no longer had a father.

    One evening, only days after Clarence Williams started the foundation, two wagons pulled into the Cartwrights’ yard.  Marie, Hoss at her side, went out to greet the new arrivals and recognized Enos Montgomery at once.  “Oh, you have brought the stove!” she cried joyfully.  “Please tell me you have.”

    Enos doffed his slouch hat.  “Yes, ma’am,” he replied respectfully, “and a load of other goods, too.  That’s why I’m later gettin’ back than I figured.  Had to arrange transport for your shipment from New Orleans.”

    “Oh, the furniture, too?” Marie asked.  “But where shall I put it?  There is no room here and the new house is little more than started.”

    “Don’t rightly know, ma’am,” Enos said, with a trace of a grin.  “Maybe I ought to find Mr. Cartwright so he could help you decide.”

    “Would you?” Marie pleaded.  “He is at the house site with Mr. Williams and Adam.  Do you know where that is?”

    “No, ma’am,” Enos answered.  “Mr. Cartwright didn’t have time to show me before he left.”

    “I could show him, Mama,” Hoss offered.

    “Are you sure, mon cher?” she asked.  “I do not think I could find my way again.”

    Hoss giggled.  “That’s ‘cause you’re a city lady.  I’m woods born, Mama.  I can find it.”  He ran to the barn to saddle his horse.

    “He’ll come to no harm, ma’am,” Enos promised.  “I’ll see to that, and I got some idea what direction to head, anyway.”

    “Very well,” Marie said.  “Please ask Mr. Cartwright to return as soon as he can.”

    Enos replaced his hat and touched its brim in farewell as he went to saddle a mount of his own.

    Marie went about her work, torn between the joy of finally being able to prepare a proper meal and the panic of not knowing where to store the furniture she and Ben had purchased for the new home.  When Ben arrived, he merely laughed at her frantic face.

    “Why, I thought we’d put the stove in the cabin’s front corner,” he teased.

    Marie pounded his chest with diminutive fists.  “Ooh, you know that is not what I meant!  The other things, Ben.  They cannot all go in the barn unless the animals leave.”

    “Well, I suppose they could ‘til the weather turns cold,” Ben chuckled.  “We’ll put as much in there as we can fit, then throw a cover over the rest.”

    “Will it keep safe?” Marie moaned.

    “Most likely,” Ben said.  “We don’t get much rain this time of year, and what comes shouldn’t penetrate both cover and crate.  Just tell me what’s most precious to you, and we’ll try to fit those things in the barn.”

    “But, of course, the armoires are the most precious,” Marie declared.

    “Ah, yes,” Ben twitted.  “No proper Creole home would be complete without armoires.”  He was still amused by Marie’s insistence that they purchase an armoire for each bedroom, even if they had to wait to buy beds.

    “Tease all you like,” Marie sputtered, “but you will be glad you have them once we are settled.”

    “Yes, my love,” Ben said in his most conciliatory tone.

    “Oh, Ben, do you think you could have the stove in place in time for supper?”

    “Oh, Marie!” Ben protested.  “We have to tear out that counter to make room for it and cut a hole in the roof for the stovepipe, then bring it in and set it up and—”

    “Not tonight, I take it,” Marie smiled.

    “Tomorrow, I promise.”

    Hoss had been crawling in and around the crates housing the furniture.  Finally, he emerged from his explorations to ask, “What’s in these things?  We gonna open ‘em now?”

    “Absolutely not!” Ben shouted.  “Get down from there.”

    Marie took Hoss’s hand as he jumped from the wagon.  “We will open them when we move to our new home, Hoss.  It will be like opening presents, oui?”

    “Yeah, like Christmas,” Hoss cried.

    “Which should be close to the time we actually open them,” Ben laughed, “so Santa won’t have to bring us anything else, will he, Hoss?”

    Hoss’s face fell.  “Just furniture?” he whimpered.  “No toys?  No candy?”

    Ben guffawed.  “You should see your face!”

    “Ben, you must not tease about Christmas,” Marie scolded, then bent to give Hoss a hug.  “But, of course, there will be toys and candy,” she promised.  “For such a good boy, Santa will bring many gifts, I am sure.”

    “And what should Santa bring Adam?” Ben twitted.  “A bundle of switches?”

    “Yeah!” Hoss declared, while Marie wagged a finger beneath her husband’s nose.  She did not think Adam’s naughtiness a fit subject for jokes and prayed earnestly it would end long before Christmas.

    With the arrival of the new stove, one of Adam’s chief complaints departed.  Meals improved remarkably, and Hoss finally got his promised gingercakes.  Noting his pleasure in sweets, Marie kept a well-stocked basket of cookies, and even Adam seemed to appreciate dipping into it to boost his energy when it started to flag.

    The days fell into a pleasant routine.  Ben and Adam were at the construction site most of the day, for while hired men did most of the work, Ben and his son worked alongside them, squaring timbers and hefting them into place until the shadows grew long.

    With Hoss’s help, Marie cleared and planted a small garden with seeds from Nelly Thomas’s surplus.  Planting this late, of course, they couldn’t harvest vegetables like corn and pumpkin that required a longer growing season, but before many weeks passed, fresh green beans and green onions graced the Cartwright table.  Other vegetables were available at the Thomas trading post, so Marie felt proud of the healthful meals she placed before her family.

    Evenings could still be awkward.  With them all crowded in one room, Adam’s continuing animosity was hard to ignore.  He kept a civil tongue in his mouth, at his father’s command, but his compliance was at best cold and begrudging.  Assuming his father wouldn’t want to read with him, he began to study the texts brought back from the east.

    One evening after washing the supper dishes, Marie approached Adam, who was reading at the table by lantern light.  “I have had a thought, Adam,” she suggested tentatively.  When he didn’t respond, she took a deep breath and continued.  “I know you love to learn, but it must be hard for you to study without a teacher.”

    “I get by,” Adam mumbled, turning a page.

    “Mais oui,” she said.  “I am sure you do, but I was thinking that perhaps you would like to learn the French language.  I would be glad to teach you.”

    “I don’t have any use for French,” Adam muttered.

    “But it is a beautiful language,” Marie argued, “one used in diplomacy and much fine literature.”

    “Not here,” Adam said, turning his back to her.

    Just then Adam felt a firm hand on his shoulder.  “Aren’t you cutting off your nose to spite your face, son?” his father asked gently.

    Adam squirmed.  “What’s that mean?”

    “Marie has made you a gracious offer, one you’d accept if anyone else made it,” Ben said.  “I’m sure French is one of the languages taught at the academy in Sacramento.  You could get a head start on it, if your stubborn pride would let you.”

    Adam swallowed hard.  “Pride’s got nothing to do with it,” he alleged.  “I’ve already started studying Greek, and I don’t want to tackle two new languages at the same time.”

    Ben frowned.  “I should think the one that offers a native speaker as teacher would be the better choice.”

    Adam gave his father a hard look.  “Do I have to?”

    Ben rubbed the boy’s neck tenderly.  “No, I won’t force learning on you; I just think you’re being foolish.”

    Adam slammed his Greek text.  “Look, maybe you got a point about needing a teacher,” he said.  “Not just for languages, but all these subjects.  I—I think maybe I’d like to enroll in the academy this year after all.”

    Marie paled.  She knew without being told that the real reason Adam suddenly wanted to leave home was not educational.  He wanted to get away from her.

    Ben sat in a chair next to his son.  “I thought you wanted to be here for the construction of the house.”

    Adam swirled his index finger on his pants’ leg.  “I did, but I’ll see a lot before I leave.”

    “Adam, I’m not even sure what you’re asking is possible,” Ben sighed.  “I’ve been told the waiting list for the academy is quite long, and you’d surely be at the end of it, enrolling this late.”

    “But we could try, couldn’t we?” Adam pressed.  “You’d let me go if they have room.”

    “I don’t know,” Ben said.  “I understand what this is really about, boy, and I’ve never felt problems were best solved by running away from them.  Maybe you should stay right here and work on your attitude.”

    Fire flashed in Adam’s eyes, and he cut a hard look at Marie.  “I want to go to school,” he sputtered.  “You were willing before—before—”

    “Don’t say it,” Ben cautioned.  “I’ve had quite enough of your impudence, Adam.  I will consider your request, and I’ll let you know my decision.”

    “Before, you said it was my decision, and you trusted me to make it,” Adam murmured sadly.

    “I’m not the one who’s changed,” Ben charged.

    Adam flounced out of the chair, grabbed his books and stalked to his room.

    Hoss pulled on Marie’s skirt.  “You—you want to teach me, Mama?” he asked.  “I ain’t very smart, but I’d try.”

    Marie fell to her knees and wrapped him in her arms.  “Oh, my sweet boy,” she cried.  “You are very kind, but you will soon have lessons enough, mon cher.  I will help you with them, but you do not have to learn French to make me happy.  I only thought it might give Adam and me a chance to share something and grow closer.  How foolish I was!”

    Ben raised her to her feet.  “No, my love, you were not the one behaving foolishly.”

    “Will you allow him to go to school, Ben?”

    Ben raked his hands through his dark hair that was just beginning to show a few streaks of gray.  “Oh, I don’t know.  I can’t take time for two trips to Sacramento this month, so he’ll have to wait until nearly time for school to start before we can go, and that increases the chance that all places will be taken.”

    “But you are not unwilling?”

    Ben sat in the rocker and pulled her onto his knee.  “Do you think his attitude lately merits reward?”

    Marie gently stroked his cheek.  “No, but perhaps a little happiness would sweeten his attitude.  Perhaps a little time apart will cool the fire that burns within him.  Perhaps if he sees we want only his best—”

    “That’s a lot of ‘perhaps,’” Ben smiled.  “As I said I’ll think about it, and I’ll think about what you’ve said, too.”

    “That is all I ask,” Marie said with a kiss.  “He is your son.”

    “And yours,” Ben reminded her, “however long it takes him to admit it.”

    Marie peered out the second-story window of the Orleans Hotel in Sacramento.  No sign yet of Ben and Adam.  Though the hotel was distinctively Creole in its style and furnishings, it was not to honor Marie that the Cartwrights had chosen it.  The lodgings seemed ideal because the second and third floors were devoted to parlors and chambers designed for a family, and everyone was along for this trip.

    “Mama, I can’t tie this fool thing,” Hoss declared with frustration as he came from the room he would share with Adam.

    Marie turned and walked to him with a smile.  “Let me, then,” she said, pulling the ends of the brown string tie and looping them artfully.  “There.  You look most handsome.”

    “I feel plumb awful,” Hoss groaned.  He hated dressing up, but both his mother and father had insisted he look his best for the planned evening at the theater.  It would be Hoss’s first, so he’d put up with fancy dress if that’s what it took to see the show.  He didn’t, however, feel obligated to like it.

    Marie smoothed his sandy hair with a gentle hand.  “You will feel better after a good dinner, oui?”

    “Oui,” Hoss grinned.  “I wish they’d get back so we could go.”

    Marie nodded and returned to her post at the street-front window.  She did not, however, see her husband and Adam return, for they had entered the hotel while she was helping Hoss with his tie.  The door to the parlor opened.  “Oh, was the school able to take you, Adam?” Marie asked eagerly, for she knew how the boy had looked forward to enrolling today.

    Adam took one look at her and fled for his room.  Ben glanced at Marie and shook his head.

    “I am so sorry,” Marie said.  “Adam is very upset, isn’t he?”

    “Yeah,” Ben replied, heading for the boys’ room.

    “We still goin’ to dinner and the play, Pa?” Hoss asked anxiously.

    “Yes, of course, son,” Ben said, giving the boy’s shoulder a consoling pat as he passed.  “Give me a few minutes alone with your brother, all right?”

    “All right,” Hoss agreed and went to sit beside Marie on the sofa.

    Ben closed the door quietly and walked across to the bed, where Adam lay sprawled, face down.  He placed a firm hand on the boy’s heaving back.

    “Leave me alone, Pa,” Adam sobbed.

    Instead, Ben sat down and pulled his son into his arms.  “Let it out, little boy,” he urged softly.  “Let it all out and don’t take any of it back in.”

    Adam tried to pull away, but when Ben held him tightly, he quit resisting and let those comforting arms encircle him as they had so many times before.  It felt good, being wrapped in his father’s embrace, like something remembered from a long-distant past and yearned for ever since.

    “I know you’re disappointed,” Ben said as Adam grew still, “but I warned you this could happen.  At least, your name’s on the list for next year, and the director assured you you’d find a place then.”

    “I really wanted to go to school this year,” Adam said.

    “Did you?” Ben asked, pulling Adam up to face him.  “You said otherwise in the spring.”

    “You don’t understand,” Adam whimpered.

    “I think I do,” Ben replied.  “It’s not learning you’re after now; you just want to get away from home.”

    “It—it’s not my home, not anymore,” Adam stammered.

    Ben felt angry, but he kept his voice gentle.  “It’s as much your home as ever.”

    “No, Pa,” Adam insisted.  “Everything’s changed.  You don’t have time for me anymore.  We never read together or talk together.”  All the charges Adam had rehearsed nightly in the solitude of his room came rolling out.

    “Who made that choice?” Ben demanded.  “I’m not the one who buries his head in textbooks and stalks off to his room, Adam.”

    Adam flushed.  “You act like it’s all my fault.”

    Ben pulled the dark head against his chest.  “No, not all.  I’ve made mistakes, too.  I admit I have trouble understanding you sometimes, but I do want to be with you, son.  I miss reading with you, playing chess, just talking.”

    “You’re too busy talking to her,” Adam snapped.

    “Adam, there’s room for you, too,” Ben said, “but you can’t bite people’s heads off every time they speak to you and expect them to carry on much of a conversation.”

    “Everybody hates me,” Adam muttered.

    “Everybody loves you,” Ben said, holding him close.  “Can’t you see that you’re the one holding everyone else at arms’ length?  I’m sorry you’re unhappy, son, but you’re unhappy because you choose to be.  You have only to look at your brother to see the results of a different choice.”

    “He’s little,” Adam argued, as if that explained everything.

    “He’s exactly the age you were when I married his mother,” Ben reminded Adam.  “You didn’t have problems accepting her because, like Hoss now, you wanted a mother then.”

    “I don’t want one now,” Adam said, lips trembling.  “I’m almost grown.”

    “Then don’t think of Marie as a mother,” Ben suggested.  “Try to think of her as a friend.  She isn’t so very much older than you, Adam, and you don’t have a monopoly on unhappiness.  You’re making her very unhappy, but to my knowledge she hasn’t said or done anything unkind to you.  Has she?”

    Adam shook his head.  As miserable as Marie’s coming had made him, he couldn’t with any honesty say she’d mistreated him.

    “In that case, can’t you, at least, be kind and courteous in return?”

    Adam looked into his father’s imploring eyes.  “I—I could do that, I guess.”

    Ben gave him a warm smile of approval.  “That’s my fine young man; that’s the young man I’ve always been so proud of.”

    Adam flushed with pleasure at the designation of young man.  He hadn’t heard it for weeks.

    Ben stood.  “Better get freshened up quickly, son.  We need to dine early if we’re to reach the theater on time.”

    Adam wiped his damp cheeks.  “I’ll be ready in just a few minutes, Pa.”  True to his word, he emerged within five.

    As they headed for the door, Marie took Adam’s hand for a moment.  “I am so sorry for your disappointment, Adam.”

    Adam didn’t say anything; he just looked up into her face and nodded, but he didn’t jerk his hand away as Marie had feared he would.  She smiled, seeing it as a token of hope.

    They ate at a restaurant near the Forrest Theater, which was located at 2nd and J streets.  Hoss pronounced the meal wonderful, and though he didn’t care for the main presentation of King Lear, he thoroughly enjoyed John Brougham’s afterpiece, Po-ca-hon-tas; or, Ye Gentle Savage.  “Can we see it again tomorrow night?” he pleaded.  “We’re stayin’ over, ain’t we?”

    “Aren’t we,” Ben corrected.  “Yes, but they’re not showing the same plays again tomorrow, son.”

    “What will be playing, Ben?” Marie asked.  “If it is appropriate for the boys, I think we should attend again.  We have so few opportunities.”

    “That’s true,” Ben laughed.  Consulting the playbill posted outside the theater, he frowned at the announced performance of Camille; or, The Life of a Coquette .  “No, I don’t think we’d better take our boys to that!”  Seeing two crestfallen faces, Ben put an arm around each of his sons.  “Here now, don’t give up hope yet; we’ll see what’s playing at the Sacramento.”

    “More Shakespeare, I hope,” Adam announced.

    “Yes, I hope so, too,” Marie said.  Like Hoss, she would have preferred something written in more modern English, but she so enjoyed seeing Adam happy for a change that she willingly set aside her wishes in favor of his.

    “Well, back to the hotel,” Ben ordered.  “It’s late, and we have a big day of shopping ahead tomorrow.  If we don’t get some sleep, we may all be too tired for another evening at the theater.”

    “Oh, no we won’t!” Hoss declared, and his words were echoed by similar ones from Ben’s other two listeners.  Hearing the cacophonous counterpoint of overlapping protests, everyone laughed.

    The following morning the Cartwrights made a concerted attack on the shops of Sacramento.  Now that Marie had a better idea of the size and style of her new home, she found it easier to select its furnishings.  Some had already arrived from New Orleans, of course, and more had been ordered in San Francisco, but there were numerous small items still to be chosen.

    Even Adam seemed to enjoy the shopping expedition, for Marie let him choose the furnishings for his own room.  He selected a relatively plain washstand with a mirror.  “I’ll be shaving soon,” he announced to justify his choice.

    “Mais oui,” Marie said and shared a secret smile with Ben.  Neither of them thought Adam’s beard likely to appear anytime soon, but decided not to insult his budding manhood with mere facts.  Dreams made better companions, after all.

    Adam hooted when he saw the rose-adorned, swirl-handled pitcher and bowl his younger brother picked.  His own solid white ones had been Spartan by comparison.  “What you want something that girlish for?” Adam demanded.

    “It’s purty,” Hoss said, “and I like flowers.”

    “I like it, too,” Ben inserted.  “Maybe we should have one just like it, eh, Marie?”

    Marie pointed to a gold-banded one even more bedecked with flowers than Hoss’s choice.  “I would prefer that one, if you do not object.”

    “How could I?” Ben smiled.  “It’s beautiful.”

    “Good, we will take it, then,” Marie decided.  She cast her eyes around the store.  “I think that is all we need here, Ben.”

    “Where to next, my lady?” he inquired with a formal bow that made Hoss giggle and Adam blush.  Pa could act plumb foolish when it came to that woman.

    Seeing Adam’s embarrassment, Marie whispered, “Behave, Ben.”  Louder, she announced, “We still need fabric for curtains and drapes and linens.  Where would be a good place to find such things, Adam?”

    “Hardy Brothers and Hall’s,” Adam reported, proud to offer his opinion.  He had never, of course, purchased any of the items Marie mentioned, but he knew the store for its fair prices on other things.

    “Yes, that’s a good place,” Ben agreed, “but are you sure you want to go there now?  Fabric’s your department, my dear, and we did plan to split up this afternoon.”

    “I know,” Marie said, “but I would like the boys to choose what they like for their drapes.”

    “I don’t care,” Hoss said.  “Curtains is curtains, but I would like to go to Hardy’s.”

    “Yes, and I know why!” Ben guffawed.  “All those enticing jars of candy on his counter.”

    Hoss gave his father a lop-sided grin.  No sense denying the truth.

    “You’ll get your wish, either way,” Ben chuckled.  “You’re going with Mama this afternoon, while I take Adam with me.”

    Adam looked puzzled.  This was the first he’d heard of any plans to separate, and he saw no reason for it.  He was glad, however, at the way the split had been determined.  An afternoon alone with Pa suited him just fine.  “I—I would like to pick what goes in my room,” he suggested hesitantly.  No fancy flowers for him!

    “All right, then, Hardy Brothers it is,” Ben decided.  “You lead the way, Adam.”

    Marie enthused over Adam’s selection of a blue nautical print on a beige background.  “Oh, that is perfect for you,” she said.  “You would like it, too, Ben?”

    “I like it,” Ben said, “but let’s have something different for our room.”

    Marie fingered bolt after bolt, then finally sighed.  “No, I do not see quite what I am looking for.  Are there other places we might look?”

    “Yes, but do that this afternoon,” Ben suggested.  “I’m sure I’ll be satisfied with whatever you choose.  It’s approaching noon, and you wanted to see some carpet this morning, I believe.”

    “Ah, yes.  Let us do that, then have something to eat.”

    “That sounds good,” Hoss affirmed.

    “Food always sounds good to you,” Adam scolded, but he was grinning as he did.  “You haven’t picked your curtain material yet.”

    “Do I have to?” Hoss moaned.  “I don’t know what to get.”

    “We will look more this afternoon,” Marie suggested, “and if you still cannot decide, I will choose for you.”

    The party moved on to the establishment of Charles Crocker and Company, whose sign advertised the sale of dry goods and carpets.  Here, both boys had adamant ideas of what they wanted to deck their bare floors.  Ignoring the prevalent floral designs, Adam and Hoss made a beeline for rugs imported from native tribes of the southwest.  “Oh, that’ll look just grand with your red rose pitcher,” Ben groaned when Hoss pointed out a predominately orange rug.

    “It is his room, Ben,” Marie argued.  Then she stooped to Hoss’s level.  “It would be better, I think, to choose one whose color does not clash so strongly——something like that blue and yellow, perhaps.”

    “Yeah, I like that, too,” Hoss said.

    “I need one with blue in it,” Adam complained, “and I don’t see any others.”

    “Keep looking,” Ben suggested.  Adam did and found one with blue, brown and beige stripes that he declared satisfactory.

    Surprisingly, Marie also selected one of the Indian patterns.  “To put before the fireplace,” she explained.  “It will seem more a part of this western land than flowers, oui?”

    “If you really want something authentic to our part of the country, you need a robe of rabbit skins,” Ben laughed.  “Neither the Washos nor the Paiutes weave like this.”

    “It’s still better than flowers,” Adam proclaimed, surprised to find himself agreeing with Marie.

    “All right, all right,” Ben said, raising his hands in surrender.  “I have no objection.”

    “Don’t worry,” Marie smiled with a teasing twinkle in her eyes, “I shall choose something quite flowery for our room.”

    “How ‘bout that nursery?” Hoss said.

    “Surely that can wait!” Ben chuckled.

    “I want my new brother right away,” Hoss pouted.

    “Well, you can’t have one right away, stupid,” Adam scoffed.

    “Adam,” Ben cautioned.  “No name-calling.”

    “Yes, sir.  Sorry, Hoss,” Adam said at once, “but I’m right about the baby.  Tell him, Pa.”

    “He’s right, Hoss,” Ben said.  “A baby can’t possibly arrive before next spring, and it may take longer.  They don’t always come when they’re ordered.”

    “Why not?” Hoss demanded.  “Furniture does.”

    Marie turned several shades of violet.  “Your father will explain later, Hoss, but we do not need to purchase anything for the baby’s room today.  We have time.”

    “Let’s go eat, then,” Hoss muttered.  “Nothing else we need here.”

    Marie still wanted a carpet for the room she and Ben would share, but she knew a tired, hungry boy when she saw one.  “Let us eat now,” she agreed, “and return later.  I would also like to see the fabric here.”

    “Fine,” Ben agreed.  He, too, was getting hungry.

    An excellent meal at the hotel restaurant refreshed everyone. Afterwards, Marie and Hoss returned to Crocker and Company, while Ben and Adam set off in the opposite direction.  “Why did we split up, Pa?” Adam asked almost as soon as they were alone.

    “Christmas shopping, Adam,” Ben smiled.  “I thought you could help me decide what to get Hoss——other than candy, I mean; I already know that.”

    “Yeah, sure,” Adam said, “but that means—”

    “What?” Ben asked when the boy broke off.

    “Nothing,” Adam muttered.  How could he tell Pa what fear had suddenly crossed his mind?  If he and Pa were shopping for Hoss, that meant one of two things concerning Adam’s Christmas:  either there’d be no presents at all, since Pa could scarcely buy them right under his nose, or the gifts would be chosen by his father’s new wife, a prospect Adam found almost as disheartening as receiving nothing.  But Adam didn’t want to say anything, now that he and his father were getting along better again.  He determined to enjoy the afternoon and just be a man about whatever happened come Christmas.

    Hoss was having a fine time with his new mother.  With her permission, he roamed through the stores, looking at things that interested him instead of the rugs, fabrics and other household goods that seemed to hold Marie’s attention.  Lost in a world of candy and toys, he never even noticed her surreptitiously purchase a few items he would have found far more interesting than sheets and towels.

    As they were walking down J Street, Marie pointed excitedly across the road.  “There!  That is exactly what I want,” she cried.  “Come, Hoss.”

    Hoss’s nose crinkled.  “What’s it say, Mama?” he asked, pointing to the sign above the entrance.

    “Beal’s Daguerrean Galley,” Marie read.  “I want to have my picture made as a Christmas gift for your father.”

    “Oh,” Hoss grinned.  “He’ll like that.  He likes pictures.”

    “I know,” Marie smiled.  She knew Hoss was referring to the daguerreotypes of Ben’s previous wives, and while she wouldn’t have admitted it to Hoss, she was anxious for one of her own to catch her husband’s eye whenever it fell on the mantel.  Despite Ben’s reassurances, she sometimes felt hard-pressed to live up to the memory of those two wives, whose images were caught in eternal, flawless youth and beauty, while she was subject to the ravages of time and the inevitable mistakes of daily existence.  She wanted Ben to see her the way he saw them.

    Mr. Beal was pleased with the pretty subject for his work.  Hoss watched with fascination as the artist placed Marie in an attractive position and readied his equipment.  “I wish I could have my picture took,” Hoss said when the exposure was complete.  “You think Pa’d like one of me?”

    “Mais oui,” Marie said.  “It will make a nice present from you.”

    “I don’t have any money,” Hoss sighed.

    “Ah, but you have been such a help to me,” Marie smiled, “that you have earned enough for this.”

    “Honest?” Hoss beamed.  “It could really be from me, then?”

    “It will really be from you,” Marie replied, “and I shall speak to your father about some pocket money for you, too, Hoss.  You should be paid for your chores as Adam is.  Your father has just not realized that you are growing up.”

    “I really am,” Hoss declared.  “I’m going to school real soon.”

    “I know,” Marie sighed.  “I had hoped to have new clothes made for you before then, but you will be starting almost as soon as we return.”

    “It don’t matter,” Hoss assured her.  “Folks don’t dress fancy back home, not like here.”

    “Well, we must finish quickly, so you can ‘dress fancy’ for tonight,” Marie laughed.  The Sacramento Theater was presenting a program Ben considered appropriate for young boys, so they would have one more evening’s entertainment before boarding the train to Folsom, where they’d catch the stage to Placerville.

    Marie planned to ask Ludmilla Zuebner for her recipe for apple strudel, since Adam liked it so much.  Then they’d begin the long trek back to Carson Valley.  Ben was right in what he’d told her back in New Orleans.  Shopping in the West required vastly more time and effort than a walk through the French Market.  No wonder people out here did it so rarely.
 

The Cartwright ranch bustled with activity following the family’s return from Sacramento.  Work continued on the new house, of course, and Adam could be seen hugging Clarence Williams’ elbow all day long.  Ben was busy laying in a new crop of hay for the winter months, while Marie occupied her days sewing new clothes for Hoss, who started school only two days after their return.  Unlike Adam, he did not attend Eliza Mott’s school at Genoa.  A new school had opened in the Washoe Valley community of Franktown, and while it was slightly further now than the Genoa school would have been, it would be the closest available once they moved into the new home.  Therefore, it seemed wise to start Hoss at Franktown, where he’d no doubt attend throughout his school years.

    Marie eagerly awaited Hoss’s return each day.  Though she would never have complained to Ben, the days did get lonely, especially for a girl used to life in a populous city.  The small cabin took little time to clean each morning, and one couldn’t sew all day, so Marie filled the empty hours by baking cookies.  When Hoss arrived home, there was always a fresh batch waiting; over cookies and milk mother and son would talk about his day.  Any that were left the next morning, either Adam or Ben took to share with their hired workers.

    Hoss had entered school eagerly, but it soon became apparent that he did not share his older brother’s aptitude for learning.  What had come so easily to Adam, Hoss had to labor over.  After the first week Hoss no longer looked forward to school.  He went because he had to, because that was his job, the way building the house was Adam’s job and putting up hay was his father’s.  Hoss would have found either task more appealing than squinting with perplexity at the mysterious shapes that were supposed to make words when put together.  The only good part of school was coming home to that milk and cookies.

    One day while munching an oatmeal cookie, Hoss asked his mother a question.  “Mama, what’s a gentile?”

    Marie shook her head as she poured milk into his tin cup.  “I do not know, Hoss, but if your teacher used a word you did not understand, you should have asked her its meaning.”

    “It wasn’t Miss Knott,” he said.  “Some—some kids called me a gentile.”  Hoss’s schoolmates had actually called him a “fat, stupid gentile,” but Hoss chose not to share that with his mother.  He knew all too well what the other words meant, and if “gentile” was in their vein, he figured it had to be something bad, too.

    “We will ask your father tonight,” Marie promised.

    Ben laughed when the question was put to him.  “Of course, you’re a gentile, Hoss!  So am I; so is Adam; so is Marie——the Thomases, too, for that matter.  It just means you’re not a member of the Mormon church.”

    “I thought everyone knew that,” Adam scoffed, giving his stepmother a superior look.

    Ben arched an eyebrow in his direction.  “Maybe everyone around here knows it,” he said firmly, “but it’s not common knowledge outside Utah.”

    Adam bit his lip.  Since their return from Sacramento, he’d tried to watch his tongue more closely, but as his feelings hadn’t really changed, some of the old sarcasm had a tendency to slip out.  “Guess not,” he admitted quickly, “but Hoss should have known.  He was raised out here.”

    Hoss’s cheeks puffed out.  “I’m not stupid!” he hollered.

    Adam stared at him, not understanding Hoss’s sudden vehemence.  “I didn’t say that.”

    “You said it before!” Hoss accused angrily.

    Ben stood behind his younger son, rubbing his tense shoulders.  “Here now, what’s this all about?  This isn’t like you, Hoss.”

    “I’m not stupid,” Hoss sputtered.  “Just ‘cause I don’t learn quick like Adam don’t make me stupid.”

    “No, no, of course not,” Ben soothed, then he peered down into Hoss’s unhappy face.  “Are you having trouble at school, son?”

    Hoss’s lower lip began to shake.  “I don’t think I’ll ever learn to read, Pa,” he whimpered.  “It comes easy to the others, but not me.”

    “They’re the ones who called you stupid, aren’t they?” Adam asked with quick comprehension.  “The kids at school?”

    “Oh, they would not, surely,” Marie protested.  “Little children would not be so unkind.”

    “Oh, Marie!”  Even Ben couldn’t resist scoffing at her naiveté.  “They don’t make a more cruel creature than a school-aged child.”

    “It was not so at the convent,” Marie argued.

    “Well, Carson County’s no convent,” Ben snorted.

    “Maybe I better pay a visit to that school and show them who’s stupid,” Adam sputtered, his fists clenching.

    “You’ll do nothing of the sort!” Ben snapped.  “That would only make things worse for Hoss.  Besides, violence is no way to solve any problem.”

    “You wear a gun,” Adam pointed out stubbornly.

    “And I know how to use it,” Ben said firmly, “but I hope I never have to——not against another man.  You’d best remember, Adam, that a boy who battles with his fists is likely to turn to firearms when he’s older.  I don’t want either of my sons thinking a fist fight or, worse yet, a gunfight, is a solution to anything.  It’s a last resort.  You hear me, boy?”  Ben’s face was fiery as he waited for an answer.

    “Yes, sir,” Adam mumbled, head hanging.  He looked contrite, but inside he was fuming.  Why’d Pa have to get so mad when all he’d wanted to do was protect his baby brother?

    “You mind what I say,” Ben reaffirmed.  “Now, if you want a constructive way to help your brother, why don’t you spend a little time going over his letters with him?”

    Adam’s head lifted.  “I will——right after supper,” he promised.

    “And I will help you after school each day,” Marie added.

    “He’s my brother; I’ll help him,” Adam snapped.

    “Adam,” Ben said, his tone ominous.

    “I am sure Hoss will appreciate all the help we can give,” Marie said, laying one gentling hand on her husband’s arm and the other on Adam’s slim shoulder.

    “Yeah, sure,” Adam replied.  With a subtle movement he twisted his shoulder free.

    After supper Adam took Hoss to their shared room and went over the ABCs with him.  The next day after he’d had his cookies and milk, Marie worked with Hoss.  Not liking the idea of her taking over a responsibility he viewed as his, Adam began coming home from the construction site early to review Hoss’s letters with him.  Before long Adam was arriving almost as soon as Hoss, and, over shared cookies and milk, the brothers gradually started to make sense of the mysterious printed shapes.

    Marie said nothing.  The important thing, after all, was that Hoss receive the help he needed.  And since the lessons were done before dinner, the evening hours could be spent in pleasanter ways.  After Adam’s accusations in Sacramento, Ben frequently made a point of taking down his volume of Shakespeare and reading an act or two.  Since Hoss didn’t care much for Shakespeare, on alternate nights Ben would set the youngster on his knee and weave exciting tales of the seafaring life.  Marie found herself hurrying through the dishes those nights, so she could sit at Ben’s feet and listen, enrapt.  Learning of his life before she met him gave her insights into his character she thought she could learn no other way.

    So many settlers were requesting the services of Paul Martin that he no longer found it possible to share a game of chess with Ben every Saturday evening.  He had a standing invitation, however, and came whenever he could, bringing young Sally with him.  Sally oohed and ahed over Marie’s delicate embroidery stitches, and before many weeks passed had started a sampler under Marie’s instruction.  Adam, who’d just begun to comprehend what Billy Thomas had seen in girls months earlier, resented the fact that Marie was once again coming between him and something he wanted.  Not caring to be twitted about his budding interest in the opposite sex, though, Adam for once kept his feelings hidden.

    The Cartwrights no longer went to the Thomas household for Sunday dinner every week.  Marie had declared that unfair——to both Nelly and herself——and insisted they trade off, so every other week the four Thomases came to the Cartwright home for dinners Nelly (and especially Billy) raved over.  Adam didn’t like the change, but he couldn’t in good conscience come up with a valid reason for his distaste.  He finally decided he simply didn’t like changes, and since his father’s new wife had arrived, there’d just been one after the other.  They weren’t all bad, Adam had to admit, but he still wished his father had never gone to New Orleans.  He kept that opinion to himself, but he had a feeling Marie knew, nonetheless.

    The leaves of the cottonwoods turned yellow-orange, like tongues of fire reaching for the sky, and the weather began to cool.  Over the Sierras at intervals arrived shipments from San Francisco and Sacramento.  Foreseeing the storage problem, Ben had set one crew of men to work building a barn at the new home site.  Since no animals would be housed there until the actual move, that space served well for storing household goods packed in crates.  Everything was sheltered from the weather now, not just Marie’s precious armoires, and she felt easier about the fate of her furniture.

    Days drifted by, one blending into the other, the only change the noticeable drop in temperature.  Feeling increasingly chilled at night, Marie purchased several lengths of flannel from the Thomas trading post to make warmer nightdresses for herself and new nightshirts for the two boys, who were fast outgrowing the lightweight ones they’d worn all summer.  By early November they were all glad for something warmer to wear at night.  Even Adam felt grateful enough to thank Marie for making his new clothes.

    November also saw the departure of Judge Orson Hyde.  Since the Carson County probate court had been suspended in September, there was no longer any reason for Hyde to remain.  Leasing his sawmill to Jacob Rose, Hyde returned to Salt Lake City, and with his departure the gentile community again rumbled about the undependability of government under the banner of Utah Territory.  The national elections had been held two days prior to Hyde’s departure, but residents of Carson County would not learn the results until mid-December.

    Toward the end of the November Ben began to speak to Marie about the upcoming Thanksgiving celebration.  “In the past I’ve asked Mrs. Ellis to prepare a meal for the men,” Ben explained.  “We always share Thanksgiving with the Thomases.”

    “I see,” Marie said, aware of the black eyes fastened on her face, awaiting her response.  Adam clearly feared disruption of the usual celebration.  “Of course, if Nelly does not mind, to spend the day with them would be most enjoyable,” she answered carefully, “but there is no need to hire someone to serve your workers.  I can prepare food for them, Ben.”

    “Of course, you can,” Ben smiled, emphasizing the final word, “but why not take a real holiday, my love?”  He took her hand and pressed it softly to his lips.  “It would be a kindness to Mrs. Ellis, Marie; she can use the extra income.”

    “That is different,” Marie said.  “Of course, we must ask her to do as she has done before, but perhaps I could help and give the men a bigger feast.  They have all worked so hard, and there are more of them, with those who build the house included, no?”

    “I hadn’t thought of that,” Ben admitted.  “Yes, perhaps it will take both of you.  I’ll drive you over to her place as soon as I can find time, so you can plan your menus.”

    “Ben, surely I can go alone,” Marie argued.  “I rode everywhere in New Orleans.”

    “I know,” Ben chuckled.  “You almost rode me down my first day there.”

    Marie planted her palms on her slim hips.  “Why, Ben Cartwright!  We did not even meet for days after your arrival.”

    Ben wagged a finger under her nose.  “Ah, but when we did, I remembered the wild horsewoman who all but forced me up a fence on the Rue Royale.”

    “Did she really, Pa?” Hoss snickered.  “I’d like to seen you climb a fence.”

    Even Adam grinned.  “In his fancy suit?  That would’ve been a sight, all right.”

    Marie tossed her head.  “It is all a wild tale invented to taunt me,” she said, and no matter how Ben protested, she would never believe the encounter he described had taken place.

    Marie instantly liked Laura Ellis and was soon dandling her two-year-old boy on her knee while they discussed what to serve for the hired men’s Thanksgiving meal.  “Turkey’s traditional, but hard to come by,” Laura explained.  “Ben shot some sage grouse last year, but it would take more.”

    “Adam would help, I imagine,” Marie said, “but one cannot depend on how much game they can shoot.  Perhaps we should bake hams, as well.  Ben can purchase them in Genoa.”

    “Ham’s good,” Mrs. Ellis agreed.  “Why don’t you cook those, while I handle the hens and dressing.  I’ll make sweet potato pies, too.  The men all seem to like those.”

    The women talked on into the afternoon, finally settling on exactly what they’d prepare and how to divide the duties.  Woven between that discussion were words that made each woman leave the meeting feeling she’d made a friend.

    The dinner was to be served Saturday night, November 28th.  Laura Ellis arrived early that morning to find Marie busily stretching recently made tablecloths over quickly constructed wooden tables.  “I hope we were not foolish to plan the dinner for noon,” Marie laughed.  “There is so much to do.”

    “We’ll be ready,” Laura smiled.

    “Hoss is milking in the barn,” Marie said.  “I asked if he would watch little Jimmy for us.  He is very gentle with little children.”

    “I know; he’s a sweet boy,” Laura said.  She took her little son by the hand.  “Want to watch Hoss milk a cow, Jimmy?”  When the toddler bobbed his head eagerly, she led him to the barn and released him into Hoss’s able hands.

    As Laura had predicted, everything was ready by the appointed hour.  Ben went from table to table, welcoming the men, expressing individual words of appreciation to them for a job well done.  When the food was served and the men started to dig in, Ben joined his family and the Ellises at their table.  He knew better than to come between men and a good meal, even for words of thanks.

    Once everyone had eaten their fill, Ben stood to formally thank his workers for their efforts over the past year.  “Special thanks goes to my fine foreman, Enos Montgomery,” Ben said, “who took over at a trying time and kept things running smoothly in my absence.”  A hearty cheer greeted his words, for Enos was popular with the men.  They thought his praise well-deserved.

    Ben lifted a cup of coffee.  “On a personal note, I would like to offer a thanksgiving toast to someone I’m very grateful to have in my life——Mrs. Marie Cartwright!”

    The men stood, raising their cups to acknowledge the young woman whose beauty and grace they all openly admired.  Hoss cheered and lifted his glass of milk, and little Jimmy Ellis tried to copy his new hero, sloshing milk onto the table as he juggled his tin cup.  Marie blushed furiously, but she was pleased——until, that is, she noticed the one person who didn’t salute her.

    Seeing his father stare at him, Adam finally raised his water glass an inch off the table, but there was no sincerity in the gesture.  Marie sighed.  Obviously, there was one person not even slightly thankful to have her in his life, and she was beginning to lose hope that the aloof tolerance with which Adam regarded her would ever warm into real acceptance.

    By December the cottonwoods stretched naked branches across perpetually cloudy skies.  Clarence Williams had given up hope of returning to California before spring, but the sizable bonus the Cartwrights would pay him to remain consoled him as snowflakes began to flutter to earth.  Only the foolhardy braved the Sierras in winter——only the foolhardy or Snowshoe Thompson.

    Most of the citizens of Genoa and the outlying valleys hovered near the post office the day the intrepid mail carrier was expected.  They lined the streets and cheered as he glided into town on his narrow, ten-foot snowshoes.  “Who won?” shouted man after man.  “Who’s the new president?”

    Thompson just smiled and pointed toward the post office.  Until his mail was delivered, he was a man with one purpose, and serving as a national news service was not part of that purpose.  Some of the mail he carried, however, were newspapers announcing the results of the election that had featured the introduction of a new political party.  But Republican candidate John Frémont, while popular locally, had carried only eleven free states, not enough to elect him, and Millard Fillmore, candidate for the all-but-defunct Whig Party won but one free state.  The victory, including all fourteen slave states and four free ones, had gone to Democrat James Buchanan, who personally considered slavery immoral, but argued against interfering in southern affairs.

    “Will he make a good president?” Marie asked Ben as they drove home in lightly falling snow after learning the news.

    “Hard to say,” Ben replied.  “He’s had success in the past at keeping a balance between slave and free interests, but he strikes me as an indecisive man, not the sort we need at this crucial moment in history.  If I’d had the right, I’d have cast my vote for a stronger leader.”

    “Frémont?” Marie asked.

    “Probably,” Ben conceded.  “He’s had a load of manure thrown on his campaign——charges like illegitimacy and cannibalism clouding the real issues——but I believe him to be a stronger leader than Buchanan.  Yeah, I’d probably have gone with Frémont.”

    Adam stood in the buckboard behind his father, resting his hands on Ben’s broad shoulders.  “What did you mean by ‘this crucial moment in history,’ Pa?”

    Ben smiled over his shoulder.  “Always the inquisitive one, aren’t you, Adam?”  He slowed the team while he answered the boy’s question.  “It’s the slavery issue, son.  It’s boiling hotter all the time with the southern states threatening to secede if Frémont won.”

    “Secede?” Marie asked.

    “Leave the Union,” Ben explained.

    Adam frowned.  “Not be part of the United States?  Any state that would do that must be full of ignorant folk.”  Marie didn’t miss the glance the boy threw in her direction, nor did she miss its significance.  Obviously, Adam was lumping her in with the ‘ignorant folk’ of her home state.

    “Not ignorant, Adam,” his father, who had also caught the exchange of glances, disagreed, “just tied to a system that ultimately must fail of its own ineptitude.”

    “You think slavery will die on its own?” Adam asked.

    “If the extremists on both sides will let it,” Ben commented, “if it doesn’t die in the flames of war first.”

    Marie shivered, not entirely from the brisk December wind.  “Let us pray it does not come to that.  I would hate to think of the streets of New Orleans running with blood.”

    “Or the streets of Boston,” Ben agreed soberly.

    Their curiosity over the elections satisfied, the Cartwrights turned their attention to the rapidly approaching completion of their new home.  “I do hope we can be settled in before Christmas,” Marie said wistfully.  “I would like to spend our first Christmas in our new home.”

    Ben reached across the supper table to squeeze her hand.  “We should make it,” he said, “but not with a lot of time to spare.  Would it be too much, my love, to ask you to prepare a party for our workers and friends on Christmas Eve?  You could have Laura Ellis help you again.”

    “Oh, I would like that!” Marie cried.  “A big party to celebrate our new home.”

    “That sound good to you boys, too?” Ben asked.

    “Sure!” Hoss agreed readily, his taste buds already whetted for the refreshments certain to be offered.

    “Adam?” Marie asked cautiously.

    “Yeah, a party’s fine,” he replied, “but what about Christmas Day?  We always eat with the Thomases.”

    “If they’re with us that night, I think we should all spend a quiet Christmas at home,” Ben said.  “This year, especially, I’d find that attractive, if it’s all right with the rest of you.”  He was looking straight at Adam, who merely shrugged.  Ben chose to act as though his suggestion had won universal approval.  “That’s settled then.  I’ll see if I can get hold of a fiddler for the party.  We’ll have room enough to hold a dance.”

    Marie clapped her hands.  “A dance!  How exciting, Ben!”

    Adam felt torn.  He didn’t relish seeing his father dance the night away with that woman, but a dance did offer other pleasant possibilities, like waltzing around with Sally Martin, for instance.  Seeing himself cutting in on Billy Thomas as often as possible, Adam started to smile.  “Yeah, a dance sounds like fun,” he admitted.

    With a meticulous eye Marie examined the nautical print drapes she and Laura Ellis had just hung.  Knowing Adam’s critical eyes would search out any fault, she wanted them to look just right.  “They are straight?” she asked Laura anxiously.

    “Perfectly straight,” Laura concluded.  “You worry too much, Marie.  Boys aren’t that fussy, anyway.”

    “Adam is,” Marie sighed.

    Another female voice laughed from the doorway.  “She’s right about that, but even Adam shouldn’t quarrel with the way those curtains look.”

    Smiling, Marie turned and rushed to welcome Nelly Thomas in a warm embrace.  “Oh, how good you are to come so far to help me.”

    Nelly kissed the younger woman’s smooth cheek. “Why, what else are neighbors for, honey lamb?  You’d do as much for me, I reckon.”

    “Mais oui,” Marie said quickly, “but I am grateful still to have two such kind friends.”

    “Well, there’s plenty to be done if we’re to have you settled in and the house ready for that party next week,” Laura remarked.

    “Oh, I know,” Marie laughed.  “It is madness to plan things so close together, but the final touches took longer than we planned.”

    “It’s a beautiful house, and well worth the wait,” Nelly said.  “Now, where can I be the most help?”

    “Hoss’s room next,” Marie said.  “If you will each bring a chair, I will get his curtains.”

    As directed, Laura and Nelly each took a chair and carried it into the room across the hall.  Since no baby brother seemed disposed to appear, Hoss had decided to move into his previously selected quarters close to Adam’s room.  Marie followed the other ladies, smoothing out the curtains as she walked.  Somehow she had managed to choose fabric that coordinated with Hoss’s Indian rug, while picking up the red of the roses on his wash bowl and pitcher.

    Nelly threaded the curtains onto the round rod, then handed them up to Laura and Marie, each perched on a chair at opposite sides of the window.  “Good and straight,” Nelly commented when the other ladies turned to her with inquisitive faces.

    “There’s one more room done, then,” Laura laughed as she stepped down from the chair.

    Marie started to descend, but suddenly she swayed awkwardly and grabbed the chair back to keep from falling.

    “Marie!” Laura cried, rushing to steady her.

    “Lands, you give us a scare,” Nelly scolded once they had the young woman on the hardwood floor again.

    “Yes,” Marie murmured breathlessly.  “I am sorry.”  She still looked pale and shaken.

    “Here, sit a spell,” Nelly ordered, easing Marie into the chair.  “I’ll wager you’ve been workin’ yourself to death, gettin’ this house ready to move into.”

    Marie shook her head.  “No, it is not that.  I am not tired, truly; there is too much to do for me to be tired.”

    “Listen to the woman,” Laura hooted.  “As if that weren’t the very reason she is tired.”

    But Nelly was examining Marie’s face carefully, and a swift smile spread across her own.  “I think maybe there’s another reason.”  Looking up, Marie read in Nelly’s brown eyes the revelation of her secret and the color flaming into her cheeks only confirmed Nelly’s suspicions.  “I’m right, aren’t I?” Nelly asked.

    Laura squealed as soon as she understood what Nelly meant.  “Ooh, a baby!”  Then a look approximating anger crossed her face.  “Pregnant and climbing up and down these chairs all morning long.  Why didn’t you say something, Marie?”

    “The work will not go away because I feel a little dizzy,” Marie smiled, “and there is still much to do.”  She stood, but both of the other ladies reached out to push her back into the chair.

    “You rest, honey lamb,” Nelly ordered.  “If there’s any more climbin’ to be done, I reckon me and Mrs. Ellis here will be adoin’ it.”

She pulled up the other chair and sat knee to knee with Marie.  “But before either of us does a lick more work, we want the details.  When’s this baby comin’, and what do Ben and the boys say about it?  I bet Hoss is fit to be tied.”

    “I—I have told no one yet,” Marie admitted, blushing again.

    Nelly took her hand.  “It’s Adam, isn’t it?” she discerned.  “You’re afeared of how he’ll take the news.”

    Marie hated to admit her concerns.  “Well, I do not know how Adam will feel,” she admitted hesitantly.  “He does not want me, and I do worry about how he will accept my child.”

    “Surely, he wouldn’t hurt your baby,” Laura protested.  “He doesn’t seem like that kind of boy.”

    “He’s not,” Nelly declared, almost indignant.

    “No, no, I know he would do the child no harm,” Marie explained quickly.  “What I question is whether he can love a child I bring to this home, hating me as he does.”

    “Hate’s a strong word, honey lamb,” Nelly soothed.  “I know Adam’s been difficult, but I don’t think his feelings are that strong against you.”

    “There are times I wonder,” Marie sighed, “but it does not matter how he feels about me.  It is my baby that matters.  Little ones know whether they are loved or not, and I shudder to think of my baby’s pain if Adam cannot accept him or her better than he does me.”

    “Hasn’t Ben guessed?” Laura asked.  “The signs are there.”

    “You did not see,” Marie smiled.

    “And men are blind as bats,” Nelly scoffed.  “Take it from the mother of three, girls:  the man’s always the last to know.”  All three women giggled, and the somber mood occasioned by thoughts of Adam lightened.

    “I thought I would save my news as a special Christmas present for Ben,” Marie said.

    “The best you could give him,” Nelly laughed.

    “We won’t say a word,” Laura promised, “but you never answered the other question.  When’s the baby due?”

    “In June, I think,” Marie replied.  “I will see Dr. Martin after the holidays and perhaps he can tell me more closely.”

    “Speaking of holidays,” Laura laughed, “we’d better get the rest of these draperies hung so you can move in by then.”

    “Mais oui,” Marie exclaimed, standing quickly.

    Nelly wagged a finger under the younger woman’s petite nose.  “But no more chairs for you, Marie Cartwright.  You’ll be the one standing on solid ground telling us if things look straight.”

    “Amen to that!” Laura agreed.  “On to the next room, ladies.  Forward, march!”  Laughing, Marie and Nelly fell into step.

    Saturday, December 20th, found almost as many people assisting the Cartwright’s move into their new home as would be guests there on the following Wednesday.  Ben had, of course, asked Clyde Thomas to help him, and he wasn’t surprised when Paul Martin also arrived to offer his assistance.  He hadn’t, however, expected either Laura Ellis or Nelly Thomas to be there.  He’d thought their part done days before, but he finally tossed their presence up to feminine curiosity about Marie’s new furnishings.  He either never noticed or never guessed the reason behind their solicitous hovering over his young wife.

    “Mrs. Cartwright, where’s this go?” Enos Montgomery asked, bringing in one of the smaller crates.

    “Oh, that must be the glassware,” Marie said.  “In the kitchen, please, Monsieur Montgomery.”

    “Enos, ma’am, just Enos,” the foreman told her for what he was sure must be the twelve thousandth time.

    “Yes, in the kitchen, Enos,” she said, as though she’d never called him anything else.  “Most of the small crates will go in the kitchen.”

    Enos walked past her through the dining room and into the kitchen.  Marie started to follow him, but Laura placed a restraining hand on her elbow.  “You’re overdoing again,” Mrs. Ellis chided.

    “I reckon we can figure where the glasses go,” Nelly scolded.

    Marie pouted at them, arms akimbo.  “And I ‘reckon’ it will not strain my poor delicate condition to lift a goblet or two.”

    “Never can tell,” Nelly laughed.  “They go in that hutch the men brought in awhile ago, don’t they?”

    “Marie!” Ben called from the stair landing.  “Which armoire goes in what room?”

    Laura Ellis turned Marie around and pushed gently.  “Go, go,” she urged.

    “Just don’t be moving any of them cupboards yourself,” Nelly yelled.  “There’s men enough around for that kind of work.”

    Lifting her skirt, Marie hurried up the stairs to find the hall almost blocked by a massive rosewood armoire.  “That is the one for our room,” she said.  “Put it against the west wall, please, to the left of the doors to the nursery.”

    “Yes, ma’am,” Clyde chuckled.  “Don’t reckon you could’ve bought a heavier chest, do you, ma’am?”

    “Quit complaining, lazybones,” Ben twitted, taking his place on the opposite side of the armoire.  “If all you do is jaw, we’ll never get everything in by dinnertime.”

    “Dinner!” Marie cried, her hands flying to her face.  “I have given no thought to it.  How will I ever cook for so many when the stove is not in place yet?”

    “Nelly brought a load of grub,” Clyde laughed.  “Didn’t figure anyone would be cookin’ here today.”

    “I foresee cold sandwiches in my future,” Ben grunted, pressing his shoulder against the armoire.

    “And apple pie,” Clyde offered as consolation.  Bit by bit they scooted the bulky armoire down the hall and into the designated position.

    To add to the bedlam, children scrambled underfoot everywhere.  Adam and Billy weren’t technically children, of course, but they weren’t muscled enough to provide much help moving heavy furniture.  They did their part, however, in placing the smaller pieces, Adam being sure to give oversight to everything that passed through his bedroom door.  Sally Martin was there, too, and Billy seemed determined to devote as much attention to her as to the work he was presumably doing.

    Hoss was supposed to be in charge of two-year-old Jimmy Ellis and four-year-old Inger Thomas.  Since he wanted to see what was going on all over the house, however, he fulfilled that responsibility by dragging the two youngsters wherever he wanted to go.  As eager to watch the movers as he, the little ones followed wherever Hoss led until Ben finally yelled at his younger son to “get those kids outside before someone trips over them!”

    By the time the sun stood overhead, everyone was ready for a break.  Fortunately, Laura and Nelly both had brought food with them, so there was enough to stave off starvation, and no one seemed to mind cold fried sage hen or the ham and beef sandwiches that padded out the meal.  There wasn’t enough dessert to go around, though, and Ben felt genuinely perturbed when Hoss claimed a wide wedge of pie for himself.  Obviously, the boy needed a lesson or two in putting guests first, but no one had time to teach him today.

    After eating, Ben insisted that everyone take an hour off to relax.  Then the work began again, with everyone determined to finish well before nightfall.  They succeeded, the last piece of furniture being placed around half past three that afternoon——or, at least, the last the Cartwrights knew about.  After everyone else had left, Clyde approached Ben.  “Hope you don’t mind, but I made you a little something for your new house.  Don’t have to use it iffen you don’t like it.”

    Ben regarded his friend with warm appreciation.  “Anything you made, we’ll like, you know that.”

    “It’s in the back of my wagon,” Clyde said.  “Thought I’d leave it there ‘til I knew it was wanted.”

    “Let’s bring it in,” Ben said, tossing an arm around Clyde’s shoulder.  He followed his old friend out to the buckboard and pulled the duck cover off Clyde’s hand-crafted gift.

    “It’s mighty plain,” Clyde said tentatively.  “Don’t know as it’ll look right next to that fancy sofa.”

    “It’ll look fine,” Ben said, running his hand over the smooth wood.  Together, he and Clyde carried the low table inside and set it between the sofa and the huge stone fireplace it faced.

    “Oh, how perfect!” Marie cried.  “It is just what we needed.  How did you know?”

    “Well, Nelly told me what all you’d already bought,” Clyde answered, face flushed with pleased embarrassment.  “Thought a table would fit right good here, give you a place to set your coffee cup or prop up your feet of an evening.”

    “Feet!” Marie squealed.  “No feet on the furniture, if you please, Monsieur Thomas.  This is too fine a piece for that.”

    Ben smiled at her.  The table was, as Clyde had said, plain——just even slabs set on block legs.  No ornate carvings——nothing decorative at all, in fact——but somehow it blended with the rustic look of stone and wood that predominated the main room.  “Too fine a piece for feet,” he agreed, then clasped Clyde’s hand to express his thanks.

    That night the Cartwrights gathered around the small table in the kitchen, rather than the fancier one in the dining room.  The kitchen table was really intended as a work surface for rolling out pie and bread dough, but as Marie had kept supper very simple, it seemed best to serve the steaming bowls of soup directly from the stove.  The dining room would not be saved for company, however; beginning tomorrow, the family would eat every meal there.

    After supper, they gathered before the huge fireplace, Ben puffing on his pipe in a mauve armchair, Adam relaxing across the room in a matching blue one.  On the sofa, whose upholstery alternated maroon stripes with cream ones dotted with tiny blue flowers, Marie and Hoss sat side by side, but not for long.  Soon Hoss’s eyelids began to droop, for he’d been up early and had had a busy day.

    While Ben finished up the last act of Shakespeare’s Othello, Marie led the younger boy upstairs and helped him into his flannel nightshirt.  “Do you like your new room, Hoss?” she asked.

    “It’s awful fancy,” Hoss said, looking at the big mahogany four-poster, the large armoire and his washstand.  “I like it, though,” he added quickly, rubbing his bare toes on the thick rug of blue and yellow.  “I ain’t never slept alone before,” he said, a shade of apprehension in his voice.

    Marie lowered the wick of the lantern on the bedside table, pulled the covers back and helped Hoss scoot beneath them.  Tucking the blanket up to his chin, she sat beside him on the bed and gave him a kiss.  “You will become used to it,” she promised, “and your father and I are just down the hall if you need us.”

    “And Adam’s even closer,” Hoss added, “but I don’t think he wants me in his bed.”

    Marie tittered.  “No, I think Adam feels too grown up to welcome his little brother into his bed.”

    “Well, my little brother’s gonna be welcome in mine,” Hoss declared emphatically, then his voice grew more hesitant, “if I ever get one, that is.”

    Marie could scarcely bear to keep her secret to herself, but Ben should, of course, be told before Hoss.  “I am sure you will sometime,” she said, but trusted herself to say no more.  She kissed him goodnight once more and returned downstairs.

    Sunday was celebrated in reverence and relaxation, but Monday morning found Marie already beginning preparations for the party to be held on Wednesday evening.  Laura Ellis had been hired to help, and the menu had already been decided, but Marie wanted to be certain they didn’t run short of sweets.  Tantalizing aromas of freshly baked gingercakes filled the house, and for once Hoss was forbidden to touch a single cookie.  On Tuesday Marie began baking pies and apple strudel, the latter to please Adam.

    Wednesday was devoted to decorating the main room for what Marie called a soirée.  Adam frowned at the fancy French term, but he willingly gathered pine boughs and cones to grace the mantel and swag from the wooden beam between dining room and living area.  He wanted the place to look its best, too, and he was more than glad to help rearrange the furniture so there’d be plenty of room for dancing on the hardwood floor.  After all, he planned to do a lot of twirling around that floor himself.

    Adam’s desired partner was among the earlier arrivals at the party.  Sally was dressed in yellow silk with a matching yellow ribbon pulling back her soft brown hair.  She looked prettier than Adam ever remembered seeing her, and he was quick to ask for the first dance.  Sally giggled and promised he would have it.

    Ben, in his best gray suit and gray vest flecked with crimson, and Marie, in her coral evening gown, welcomed Sally’s father at the door.  “We’re glad you could come,” Ben said.  “We don’t see nearly enough of you these days.”

    Paul bent at the waist to kiss Marie’s hand, then gave Ben an impish wink.  “It helps, of course, when you invite most of my patients, too.”

    Ben laughed.  “Exactly why we did it.  Just to be assured of the pleasure of your company.”

    “The pleasure’s mine,” Paul said smoothly.  He looked around the room, taking a deep breath of the pine-scented air.  “Everything’s beautiful, Marie——a far cry from the bachelor parties Ben and I used to share on Saturday nights.”

    Marie blushed prettily.  “You must share them more often, Doctor Martin.  Ben does not complain, but I know he misses your chess matches.  Please come whenever you can.”

    “When I can,” Paul promised.

    Other guests started to arrive, and the room was soon filled to capacity with smiling faces, the rafters ringing with convivial chatter, and the exuberant strains of a violin invited everyone to dance.  To Billy Thomas’s hot-cheeked displeasure, Sally gave Adam the promised first dance, then graciously divided her dances between them.  Neither boy partnered her as often as he desired, however, for grown men also claimed the attentions of the budding young beauty.  Women were still scarce in Carson County, and even the youngest learned early to expect a multitude of men begging for the privilege of a dance.

    Only rarely that evening did Ben have the opportunity of squiring his own lovely wife around the dance floor.  In her New Orleans finery, she was clearly the best-dressed woman in the room, even without the jewels she had declined to wear lest her guests feel outshined.  Had she worn frayed calico, though, Marie Cartwright would still have been the most beautiful woman in the room, and she was obviously the most desired partner by everyone there in long pants, with the sole exception of her stepson.  Determined to be the gracious host, Ben let man after man cut in on his rare turns about the floor with Marie.  But he made a solid determination that it wouldn’t happen at the New Year’s Eve dance, to be held, as usual, at Spafford Hall’s old station.  Ben wouldn’t be host then, and he intended to be selfish.

    Midway through the evening Ben gathered the younger guests around the huge, decorated tree that stood beside the L-shaped staircase.  “It’s a tradition in our home to read Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol each Christmas Eve,” he explained.  “With the assistance of my good friend, Dr. Paul Martin, I’d like to share that story with you now.”

    The children clapped and at once sat on the floor, faces eager, attention rapt as Paul and Ben created a moment children of the community would look forward to every Christmas for years to come.  While the story-telling was intended for children, however, older ears listened in, too, and many guests, on taking their leave that evening, declared the reading the highlight of the party.

    Some of the younger children barely managed to stay awake for Tiny Tim’s universal blessing, and Marie suggested they might lie down on the boys’ beds upstairs until their parents were ready to leave.  Adam’s room was designated for boys and Hoss’s for girls, and soon both beds were covered with small, snoozing bodies, Hoss’s among them.

    Free of oversight of their children, the adult guests alternated between the dance floor and the refreshment table as the party lasted late into the night.  No one wanted to leave, but most had a long drive awaiting them and children who couldn’t bear to be away from home on Christmas morning.  The Cartwrights stood in the yard waving until the last wagon faded into darkness.  Then Ben swung Marie through the air.  “A wonderful soirée, Madame Cartwright,” he declared.

    Marie giggled with exhilaration.  “Put me down, Monsieur!”

    Ben let just her toes touch ground as he held her close and kissed her.  “Merry Christmas, my love,” he whispered.

    “It is not Christmas yet,” Marie smiled.

    “Almost,” Ben said.  “Besides, when will I get a chance tomorrow with two boys clawing into their presents and, I hope, hollering with delight?”

    “Oh, do not forget Adam’s big present,” Marie said.

    Ben clapped his palm to his forehead.  “I almost did!  I’d better get one of the men to help me before they turn in.”

    “You had better hurry,” Marie urged. “If they feel as tired as I—”

    Without a word, Ben rapped on the door to the bunkhouse and had one of his workers help carry a large crate from barn to house.  He returned to find Marie clearing the refreshment table.  “Oh, let that wait ‘til morning,” he urged.

    “Ben, I cannot,” she argued.  “Tomorrow is Christmas, and I will have no time then.”

    “Let me help you, then,” Ben said and Marie made no objection.  “Maybe we should think about getting you some help with this place,” he suggested as they carried cups and plates to the kitchen.  “Mrs. Ellis might welcome a steady job.”

    “No, Ben,” Marie stated firmly.  “Laura is my friend.  To hire her on occasion is fine, but I would not wish to make her my servant.  It might put distance between us.  Besides, I am not sure I would like another woman in my kitchen.”

    “Well, it was just a thought,” Ben murmured.  “Let’s get these washed up quickly.  I’m tired, and I can guarantee those boys won’t let us sleep in.”

    Hoss had retired early enough to ensure the accuracy of his father’s prediction, but while Adam had gone to his bed as soon as it was cleared of slumbering visitors, he lay awake into the early morning hours.  He was almost fourteen, old enough, he told himself, to know things didn’t always work out the way you hoped they would, but still young enough to yearn for the magic of Christmas, a magic he feared would be absent for him this year.

    He had resigned himself, or so he thought, to there being no gifts for him beneath the tree that morning, but as he lay restless between cool sheets, he found himself growing nostalgic over Christmases past, Christmases made special by Inger’s loving touch.  Adam sighed.  No point in dreaming of corned pork roast or lutfisk or any of the Swedish dishes his father’s second wife had prepared for holiday meals.  Probably they’d have to suffer through exotic French cooking this Christmas, and goodness only knew what strange foods would appear on the table.  In all fairness, Adam had to admit that Marie’s cooking was usually good, but in his eyes no one could live up to the memory of Inger.

    Adam wasn’t ready to wake up when Hoss jerked impatiently on his arm early Christmas morning.  “Come on,” the younger boy urged.  “Don’t you wanna see what Santa brought you?”

    “Bundle of switches, probably,” Adam grumbled as he pulled back the covers.  That’s what Inger had taught him Juletomten, the Swedish version of Santa Claus, brought to naughty boys, and Adam had reason to believe that Santa Ben Cartwright had consigned his older son to the ranks of the naughty.  He didn’t want to ruin his little brother’s Christmas, though, so he dressed quickly and let the youngster tug him to the head of the stairs.

    “Wow!” Hoss yelled when he saw the big crate beside the towering pine crowned with a gold star.  “Who you reckon that’s for?”

    Adam stared.  Nothing he’d helped his father select for Hoss in Sacramento would require a package that big.  Hope leaped into his throat, but he choked it down.  It couldn’t be for him, could it?  When would Pa have bought it?  Slowly, he followed Hoss downstairs.

    Ben and Marie entered from the kitchen, where they’d been sharing an early morning cup of coffee, made mercifully weak.  They stood side by side, each one’s arm encircling the other’s waist and watched the boys examine the present.

    Hoss looked up just as Adam stepped off the last stair.  “It’s yours,” he said, with just a hint of disappointment.

    “How you know?” Adam asked.

    Hoss thumped the top of the crate.  “Says so right here.  I read good enough to spell out Adam.”

    A slow smile spread across Adam’s countenance as he read his name painted on the wood.  He looked up to find his father handing him a tool with which to pry off the lid.  Adam took it and soon he and Hoss were peering down into the package, Hoss not even caring what mysteries awaited him beneath the tree until he learned the contents of that most intriguing box.  It appeared to be a piece of furniture.

    Ben helped Adam pull the crate apart to reveal a small, but well-crafted desk with cubbyholes and drawers enough to hold a variety of boyish treasures.  “A desk of my own!” Adam cried, face glowing.  He threw his arms around his father.  “Thanks, Pa.  I never dreamed of having anything this fine to do my studying at.”

    “You’re welcome,” Ben said, returning the embrace warmly, “but I think you should know your——uh——well, Marie chose it.”

    Adam flushed.  “Th—thank you, ma’am,” he stammered.

    “I am pleased you like it, Adam,” Marie smiled.  “You have several other gifts, but Hoss must open one now.”

    “That’s right,” Adam said quickly, eager to get their attention off his embarrassed face.  “That one, Hoss; that looks interesting.”  Soon the floor was littered with paper and the boys sat surrounded by their new riches.  Hoss crowed with happiness when he opened the last package and found a mechanical train that rolled effortlessly on runners across the floor.  His sack of marbles and new books and clothes lay forgotten as he chugged-chugged the little engine this way and that.

    Adam, who had feared his Christmas would be so dreary, scarcely knew where to look first.  As usual, a nice collection of new books (always his favorite gift) had been beneath the tree.  One of them showed detailed drawings of architecturally interesting buildings back east.  “We brought that back from New Orleans,” Ben explained.  There were new clothes for him, too, and Adam found himself delighted with the little theater Marie had picked out in Sacramento.  “Now you can put on your own plays,” she suggested, “and we will not have to wait for our next trip to Sacramento for fine entertainment.”

    “Put one on tonight,” Hoss demanded.  “We should have something special for Christmas night.”

    “Oh, that would be wonderful,” Marie cried with delight, then hesitated.  “If—if Adam does not think that is too short a time to prepare.”

    Adam shrugged.  He was thrilled with the idea, but hated to give her the satisfaction of knowing how much.  “I guess I could come up with something.”

    “Now open your presents,” Hoss ordered his father.  “There’s even one from me!”

    “A present from you?”  Ben’s lips twitched merrily.  “My, my, I’ll have to see that right away.”

    “It is a fine present,” Marie whispered, “and truly his own idea.”

    Hoss handed his father the rectangular package wrapped in brown paper.  Ben opened it and smiled into the grinning image of his younger son.  “Why, that’s wonderful!” he said enthusiastically.  “And is there one of Adam, too?”

    “I am afraid not,” Marie said softly.  “Adam was not with us when we went to the daguerrean studio, but perhaps we can have his picture made when he goes to school in the fall.  Then we will have it to look at whenever we miss him.”

    “Yes, we’ll do that,” Ben agreed, pleased with the idea.

    Adam thought it a good idea, too, even if it was her idea, but he couldn’t bring himself to say so.  He felt ashamed that his little brother had thought to get a gift for Pa when, for all his grown-up pride, it had never occurred to Adam.  Of course, likely it was the woman who’d put Hoss up to it.  Maybe she’d even intentionally left him out to make him look bad in Pa’s eyes.  The irritation Adam had felt with himself suddenly found a new target.

    Marie was handing Ben a package identical in size and shape to the one Hoss had presented.  “Oh, is this what I hope it is?” Ben asked.

    Marie glanced modestly aside when Ben opened the package and gazed lovingly at the beautiful, framed face of his third wife.  Adam frowned.  Like Ben, he’d had a feeling the package contained another picture, one to compete with those his father had cherished for so long; in fact, judging by the look on Pa’s face, one likely to take their place in his affections.

    There were other gifts for Ben and several for Marie, including a warm woolen cloak to protect her from chilly winter winds.  Finally, Marie stood.  “This has all been most wonderful fun, but I must hurry to the kitchen now to prepare our special Christmas breakfast.”

    “Ooh, a special breakfast,” Hoss crowed.  “What you fixin’?”

    “Omelets,” Marie laughed, knowing the word would be meaningless to Hoss.

    “Huh?”  Hoss’s face obligingly screwed up with bewilderment, and Adam’s would have, too, if he’d been willing to let his guard down enough to admit his ignorance.

    “Eggs, Hoss,” his father laughed.  “French style.”

    Adam groaned.  Just what he’d been afraid of.

    Marie turned to go into the kitchen, but Ben grabbed her hand and began pulling her toward the front door.  “Not ‘til you’ve opened your last present,” he ordered softly.

    “Another present?” Marie queried.  “But where?”

    “In the barn, of course,” Ben laughed.  “I could scarcely put this under the tree!”

    Marie and the boys soon learned what Ben meant when he took his hands from Marie’s eyes as he laid her slender hand on the mane of a black gelding with four white stockings.  Marie squealed with delight.  “Oh, a horse of my own!” she cried, “but how?  When?”

    “Last night, while you were busy with your guests,” Ben chuckled.  “I bought her two weeks ago, and Ben Palmer brought her over last night.”  Palmer was a black man who had started a horse ranch near Genoa.  Ben patted the horse’s flank.  “I hope to get you a finer mount someday, but this is a sound animal——and a safe one for a lady.”

    “Well, at least, you cannot accuse me of riding anyone down with this horse,” Marie tittered.  “His temperament seems very——very stable.”

    “Yeah, not a lot of fire in his blood,” Ben admitted, “but he’ll serve for pleasant rides around the ranch.  You will accompany me on one this afternoon, won’t you, Madame?”

    “Today?  I don’t see how,” Marie protested.  “I must cook the omelets, then put on the roast for dinner——Yankee style, as Nelly Thomas tells me you like it.”

    “After dinner, then,” Ben laughed.  “Surely the boys won’t mind washing a few dishes.”

    “No, sir,” both boys said willingly enough.  On Christmas, even Adam felt magnanimous enough to be cooperative, and peace on earth appeared to have spread to the Ponderosa, if only for a day.

    The omelets, flavored with chopped ham and onion, made a hit with all the Cartwrights, and while the New England pot roast was not as good as the ones Nelly prepared, it was tasty enough, and the oyster bisque that preceded the main course was declared the best part of the meal.  “Let’s have this every day,” Hoss suggested.

    “But it wouldn’t be special then,” Ben had laughed, pinching Hoss’s double chin.

    Leaving the dishes on the table, Ben and Marie rode into the hills under a gray, but clear sky.  Emerald evergreens stretched their arms toward a sky rendered pale by the brilliant blue of Lake Tahoe, which they surrounded.

    In her new cloak Marie huddled close to Ben, chilled, but enchanted by the view.  “I am glad we came here today,” she murmured.  “It is the perfect place for me to give you your other gift.”

    “What, more?”  Ben squeezed his wife closer yet.  “What more could I ask for than you by my side in the loveliest spot God ever made and two wonderful boys to go home to.”

    “Three, perhaps,” Marie suggested, smiling up into his face.

    “Three what?” Ben asked, his eyes puzzled.

    “Three wonderful boys to go home to,” Marie said softly.

    Ben grabbed her shoulders and held her at arms’ length.  “No!” he cried.  “You’re—you’re—”

    “Yes, I am.”  Marie’s silvery laughter echoed across the water.  “By next Christmas there will be three little ones to buy for.”

    “Oh, Marie!” Ben cried and folded her into his arms.  “Wait’ll the boys hear!”

    “Oh, Ben, not tonight,” Marie begged.  “They are enjoying Christmas so much.”

    Ben cupped her delicate chin in his hands.  “This will only add to it.”

    Marie shook her head.  “For Hoss, perhaps, but we cannot be sure how Adam will react.  He seems happy today, Ben; let him stay so.  Besides, I would like to consult Dr. Martin and make sure all is well before we tell our sons.”

    “All right, if you’ll feel easier,” Ben said.  He walked her to her horse, then paused.  “If I’d known this, I’d have bought you a new buggy and a plodding old nag instead of a riding horse,” he chided.  “Women and their secrets!”

    “I am not ready for a buggy and nag yet!” Marie protested.  “I am glad you did not know.  Time enough for pampering when I am out to here,” she added, holding her hand three feet before her belly.

    Ben’s mouth began to twitch.  “That I’d like to see,” he teased.  “Even Hoss’s mother didn’t get that big.”

    They rode home and Ben somehow kept the joyous news from showing all over his face.  With Hoss’s dubious help, Adam had made sandwiches from the roast beef.  “It’s enough, isn’t it?” he asked.  “We want to hear you read the Christmas story, Pa, and we have a play ready, too.”  Clearly, he didn’t want to waste time in mere eating.

    “It’ll be plenty,” Ben agreed.  “Let’s eat by the fire, shall we?”

    “Oh, yes, that will be cozy, and a good place to watch the entertainment,” Marie said.

    After eating the sandwiches, an enrapt audience watched as Adam’s cardboard characters portrayed the simple tale of Little Red Riding Hood.  Hoss managed the part of the wolf, making such vigorous attack on first the grandmother and then the little girl that Adam feared his figures weren’t destined for a long life, even with the timely entrance of the woodsman.  And the wolf’s dialogue was somewhat muffled by leftover cookies crammed in the mouth of the youngster giving him voice.

    Nonetheless, Ben and Marie clapped and clapped as the curtain came down on the little stage.  “A most excellent performance,” Ben declared.

    “We’ll do better next time,” Adam promised.  “I had to keep it simple for Hoss to learn so quick.”

    “You both did wonderfully,” Marie praised, “and we will look forward to your next evening of entertainment.

    Ben took his Bible, then, and opened it to the second chapter of Luke.  By the light of the fire he read once more the story of the birth of the holy infant, but he couldn’t resist glancing every few moments at the glowing face of his own personal Madonna and thinking of the happy day when she would hold in her arms a child as precious as that other Mary’s must have been to her.
 
 

Setting the tray on their bedside table, Ben stood gazing at the beautiful face of his slumbering wife.  It seemed a shame to wake her, but it was late already.  Even the boys would soon be awake, and she wouldn’t want to sleep later than they.  Ben sat beside her and, bending over, pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

    “Umn,” Marie murmured, her eyelids slowly opening to reveal her exquisite emerald eyes.  “Is it morning?”

    “It was morning when we got home,” Ben laughed.  “The sun’s well up now, sleepyhead.”

    Marie struggled to sit up.  “Oh, it is late!” she cried, seeing the bright sunlight through the open drapes.  “What will the boys think of me?”

    Ben laughed again.  “Nothing at all.  They’re still asleep.  They had a late night, too, remember?”

    Marie sighed contentedly and sank back onto the feather pillow.  “But a most happy one, oui?”

    “Oui,” Ben said and kissed her again.  They’d danced away the old year the previous night.  Marie, in her blue satin and sapphire jewels, had once again been the most popular partner for the miners, Mormons and other men attending the annual community dance.  “It was a happy send-off for the old year,” Ben said now, “with a happier one yet to look forward to.”

    “I hope it will be,” Marie murmured.  “At least, Adam seemed happy again last night.”

    Ben lifted her and held her close.  “Don’t worry so much about him, my love.  The news of the baby took him by surprise, that’s all.  I’m sure he’s used to the idea by now.”

    Marie shook her head.  She entertained no such certainty.  As soon as Dr. Martin had confirmed her pregnancy and assured her that everything appeared normal, she and Ben had told the boys that a new baby was expected.  While Hoss had bounced with ecstatic anticipation, Adam had kept his eyes riveted to the floor and quickly excused himself.  He hadn’t said anything, but his silence screamed his true feelings, at least to Marie’s sharply attentive ears.  She was sure he wanted nothing to do with the brother or sister scheduled to arrive in June, and her heart was torn with grief.

    Ben chucked his wife under her small chin.  “Put a smile on this pretty face,” he said softly.  “I’ve brought you a cup of coffee, made strong enough for a spoon to stand up in.”

    Marie laughed.  “That should be almost strong enough for my Creole taste.”

    Ben wagged his index finger under her nose, then made an elaborate presentation of the tray set with one cup of coffee, along with the sugar bowl and creamer.

    “Oh, Ben, you spoil me,” Marie said, taking a comforting sip of the hot brew, “but I really shouldn’t take time.  It is so late, and I must prepare breakfast.”

    “No, no, breakfast is my responsibility this morning,” Ben soothed her.  “A Cartwright tradition, my love.  Hangtown Fry a la Pa for New Year’s Day.”

    “And what is Hangtown Fry?” Marie asked.

    “Eggs,” Ben chuckled, remembering a similar conversation with Hoss only a week earlier.  “Eggs Placerville style this time.”

    While Ben took the tray downstairs and began to cook the Hangtown Fry, Marie went to wake the boys.  She stopped first at Adam’s room, rapping lightly, then entering.

    Seated at his new desk, Adam quickly slammed shut a book in which he’d been writing.

    “Oh, you are already awake,” Marie said.  “I came to tell you that your father is making—”  She paused, unable to remember the name of the dish, then finished “—eggs a la Placerville.”

    “Hangtown Fry,” Adam corrected contemptuously.  Why did she have to turn simple Hangtown Fry into some French-sounding dish?

    “Oui, that is what your father said,” Marie smiled, then cocked her head quizzically.  “Are you studying so early this New Year’s Day, Adam?”

    “I’m finishing up my journal to Jamie, if you must know,” Adam snapped peevishly, “and it’s private.”

    “Mais oui,” Marie said quickly.  “I did not mean to intrude.  I know how special this journal is.”

    Adam fidgeted uneasily.  “Yeah, I’m just telling him about the dance last night,” he said in an effort to be polite.  “Then it’ll be ready to mail.”

    “Yes, I know Jamie will look forward to receiving it,” Marie said.  “He has saved all the ones you sent him, you know.  He showed them to me.  You write a beautiful hand, Adam.”

    Adam’s face reddened.  “He—he let you read my journals?”

    Too late, Marie realized how intensely private Adam felt about his words to Jamie.  “He showed me only a little,” she whispered defensively, “to help me know my new—”

    “Well, you’re not reading this!” Adam sputtered hotly, anxious to stop the relational word he sensed she was about to use.

    “I did not ask to!” Marie snapped, immediately regretting her outburst.  “I am sorry for my temper, Adam,” she said a moment later, “but you need never fear my prying in your papers.  I would not.”

    “Well, okay, then,” Adam mumbled.  In his heart he knew he owed her an apology as much as she’d owed him one, but he couldn’t force the words out past the lump of stubborn pride in his throat.

    “Finish quickly,” Marie urged.  “You do not want to be late for your father’s special breakfast.”  With a swish of her skirts, she escaped into the warmer welcome of Hoss’s room across the hall.

    Adam posted his journal to Jamie as soon as possible and whiled away the wintry days of January dreaming of the day Jamie’s journal would arrive.  It came, as usual, shortly before his birthday, but Adam didn’t take the pleasure this year in reading it that he’d enjoyed before——at least, once he’d passed a certain date.

    The first half of the journal was as much of interest as always, but when Adam came to the June entries, he was forced to read page after page of Jamie’s admiration for Ben Cartwright’s new wife.  Jamie was openly envious of his friend Adam’s having such a beautiful new mother.  “At least, I met her first,” young Jamie crowed on the printed page.

    Adam slammed the book shut.  How did she do it?  How did she make everyone like her——everyone but him, that is?  Adam threw himself on his walnut bed and burrowed his face in the downy pillow.  Why couldn’t he like her?  Why?  Adam couldn’t think of any real reason for his dislike.  He’d had reason to be angry in the beginning, of course.  Pa’d sprung a terrible shock on him, but was his anger still justified?  Suddenly seeing Marie through Jamie’s eyes, Adam began to wonder.  Was there really any reason for his feelings other than his own fear of change,  his own unwillingness to admit he’d been wrong?  He wasn’t ready to answer those questions, but the seed had been planted and gradually began to sprout.

    Adam finally resumed reading Jamie’s journal, but the later entries gave him little pleasure either.  Beginning in September, Jamie described his classes and teachers at the St. Louis Academy, and Adam burned with jealousy.  He should have been reading about Jamie’s exciting new studies while experiencing his own in Sacramento.  He should have been writing diary entries about his own new classes and teachers to send to Jamie, but there was nothing to tell.  And whose fault was that?

    Adam winced, ashamed of the unworthy accusation that had crossed his mind.  No, he couldn’t with any honesty lay the blame for his missed educational opportunity at his stepmother’s feet.  Might as well blame Jean D’Marigny for dying or that lightning for spooking the cattle.  That’s what started it all; that’s what sent Pa to New Orleans and delayed the construction of the house.  Still, Marie was the reason Adam so desperately regretted his original decision to give up a year of learning for the chance to watch a real architect at work.  She was at least partly responsible for his unhappiness, wasn’t she?  It couldn’t be all his own fault, could it?  Turmoil roiling inside, Adam spent the next several days sulking in his room.

    His mood didn’t improve when the twentieth of February dawned without anyone’s so much as saying “Happy birthday” to him.  No greeting, no cake, no presents——just a long list of chores that would keep him away from the house all day.  Obviously, Pa was so wrapped up in the new baby’s upcoming birth, he’d forgotten all about his firstborn.   For awhile Adam had hoped it was all a mistake, but now there was no missing the meaning of Marie’s softly rounded form.  The baby was coming, no doubt about it, and once it came, sons number one and two would really get pushed to the back burner.  So far, Hoss didn’t seem to mind, but just wait ‘til Pa forgot his birthday!  That would wipe the sappy smile off his fat little face.  Angry, Adam stomped off to do his assigned chores.

    He returned near suppertime.  As he rode wearily into the yard, he noticed a number of wagons and a buggy standing there.  The buggy, of course, would be Dr. Martin’s, but why would he be there?  Not to play chess; it was Friday, not Saturday.  Was something wrong?  With Pa or Hoss?  Fear lunging at his heart, Adam ran to the front door and flung it open.  “Surprise!” yelled a dozen voices.

    Adam’s mouth dropped and he stared wide-eyed at the banner draped across the mantel.  It read “Happy Birthday, Adam,” in bold letters.  “Ha!  Bet you were surprised!” Hoss was chortling.  “Bet you thought we forgot.”

    Then Sally Martin was at his elbow whispering a birthday greeting in his ear.  Suddenly, his father, Marie at his side, stood before him.  “Happy birthday, son,” Ben grinned.

    “Go upstairs and clean up,” Marie suggested softly.  “There is a warm tub waiting, and your suit is laid out.”

    “Y—yes, ma’am,” Adam stammered, overwhelmed.

    “Don’t be in any hurry,” Billy Thomas joked.  “Me and Miss Sally can get along just fine without you, birthday boy.”

    Finally, Adam grinned.  “Just try not to bore her too much, buddy; I’ll be down in a wink.” Adam weaved his way through a crowd of well-wishers and trotted up the stairs to his room.  As Marie had promised, he found a tub waiting.  Shedding his work clothes in a flash, he climbed in and gave himself a quick scrubbing, then dressed and groomed his hair.

    Soon enough to irk Billy, Adam appeared downstairs and smiled at the friendly teasing of his friends.  There were some adults, of course, like the Thomases and Dr. Martin, but most of the guests were younger friends he’d known in school or who lived on neighboring ranches.  A couple of children had been invited to keep Hoss company, but the party had clearly been planned for Adam’s enjoyment.

    Ben placed an arm around his son’s shoulder and embraced him warmly.  “Hope you didn’t think we’d forgotten your birthday,” he smiled.  “When Marie mentioned having a party for you—”

    “It’s her idea?” Adam asked.

    “The party’s her idea,” Ben said.  “I’m afraid I’m responsible for the surprise.”

    “And a mean trick it was, Mr. Cartwright,” Sally Martin scolded, then laughed.  “The look on your face was worth it, though, Adam.”

    “Yup, too bad we don’t got one of them picture-takin’ machines,” Billy cackled.

    Ben groaned.  “Billy, it’s a good thing we didn’t invite Mrs. Mott.  She’d cringe to hear her good teaching thrown out the window like that.”

    Unperturbed, Billy just grinned.  “Come see the cake,” he dictated.  “It’s a sight.”

    Adam let himself be led to the table, where an apple strudel sat with fourteen candles stretched down its length.  He looked up to see Marie gazing nervously at him.  She’d planned this for him, invited his friends, fixed his favorite dessert, after all his surliness to her.  It wasn’t the time or place to say he was sorry, but one thing needed saying.  “Th—thank you, ma’am,” he murmured.

    Marie smiled happily.  “Oh, you are welcome, Adam,” she cried, impulsively flinging her arms around him.  Almost by habit, Adam flinched, and she quickly withdrew.  “We will light the candles later,” she said, “but first we have a nice dinner planned.  And you must not fear:  Mrs. Thomas has helped to prepare your favorite foods, so I am sure you will like it.”

    Adam gave her a sheepish smile, suddenly chagrined that she’d felt obliged to have someone else do the cooking just to please him.  But he couldn’t tell her.  Not now, not with everyone gathering around the table, eager for the meal to begin.  He was at a loss for words, anyway.

    Late that night, after all the guests had gone and all the gifts were put away, Adam lay awake thinking about the party.  It was the biggest birthday celebration he’d ever had, and he had his father’s new wife to thank for it.  He’d done that, of course——said the words, that is——but it didn’t seem enough.  Adam found himself remembering the conversation he and his father had had in Sacramento.  Pa’d suggested he start thinking about Marie as his friend, but Adam hadn’t been ready for that then.  It had been hard enough just to be kind and courteous, as he’d promised.  Yet hadn’t Marie shown him time and time again that she wanted to be his friend?  Maybe, if he tried, he could begin to think of her that way.  It would please Pa, for sure, and Adam was surprised to discover the idea sort of pleased him, too.  Maybe, just maybe, it was worth a try.

    But before Adam had much opportunity to test out his new line of thinking, an unexpected illness left him with little strength to think of anything except drawing his next breath.  Ben’s boys were so rarely ill that at first he didn’t take Adam’s coughing seriously.  Just a case of the sniffles.  Hard to get through the winter without one.  No need to call a doctor for a little cold.

    But within days the cold settled deep in Adam’s chest, he wheezed with every breath and his fever rose sharply.  “Pneumonia,” Dr. Martin informed the worried parents gravely.  “He’s a very sick boy.”

    They tried every remedy they knew, everything the doctor suggested:  warm broth, mustard plasters, even Inger’s old Swedish formula of salt pork and onions.  Nothing helped.  The fever rose still higher and delirium set in.

    Marie bathed his burning flesh by the hour, but if it helped at all, her hands couldn’t feel the difference.  He seemed as warm as before——and as petulant.  Time after time he pushed her hands away.  “I don’t want you,” he whimpered repeatedly.  “I want my mother.”

    Tears in her eyes, Marie bent over him each time, continuing to stroke him with a cool cloth.  “I know, Adam, I know,” she whispered, “but she is not here.  Let me help you, mon fils.”  She didn’t dare call Adam her son in English for fear of upsetting him, but her native tongue let her express the relationship she felt without his understanding.

    Adam’s head wagged from side to side, whether from weakness or rejection no one could say for certain, but Marie was sure it was the latter.  If she had needed proof that the boy would never accept her, his pulling away in his moment of need provided all the evidence she’d ever require.

    Ben, standing behind her late one night, rubbed her shoulders, feeling the tension.  “You should go to bed, Marie,” he said.  “In your condition, you need extra rest.  You’re wearing yourself down.”

    Marie shook her head violently.  “No, I am fine, Ben.”

    Ben pulled her around.  “You’re not,” he said firmly.  “You’re exhausted.”

    “So are you,” Marie accused.

    “That’s different,” Ben insisted.  “He’s my son.”

    “And mine!” Marie retorted with a fierce flounce of her head.  “Or so you once said.  He may not want me, but I thought you understood.”

    “I do understand,” Ben assured her, pulling her into an embrace.  “I didn’t say what I meant.  I’m just trying to say that you have another child to consider——our child, Marie.”  He laid his hand on her rounded belly.  “You must think of this little one, too, my love.”

    “I do,” Marie whispered, “but truly you do not understand, Ben.  I do not feel differently about Adam than I do this little one.  They are both my children.  I cannot deny one to spare the other.  I don’t know how to love in—in part.”

    Ben cupped her face in his hands.  He’d known, of course, the passion of her love for him, but he hadn’t until that moment realized that she loved his sons with equal fervor.  He loved her all the more for her willingness to sacrifice herself and what she wanted most for Adam, but he couldn’t allow it.  “Marie, go to bed,” he said firmly.  “That is not a request, my love; it’s an order.  If you don’t know how to spare yourself, I do.”

    “But, Ben,” she protested, casting an anxious look at the boy feverishly tossing his covers aside.

    “Go to bed,” Ben ordered more firmly.  Marie nodded submissively and went away for a few hours rest, but she was back at Adam’s side before the sun rose.

    As the days passed, friends learned of the boy’s illness and both Nelly Thomas and Laura Ellis began coming by to give the weary parents an occasional break from nursing duties.  After her first visit Nelly offered to take Hoss home with her, but the distraught little boy refused to leave.  “He’s my brother,” Hoss whined.  “I got a right to stay.”

    “But Sunshine,” Nelly argued, “it just makes that much more work for your poor, tired mama.”

    “No, Nelly,” Marie objected.  “Hoss is no trouble to me, truly.  And I think he will worry less if he is here where he can know how his brother is.”

    “Well, that’s likely true,” Nelly admitted, “but the invitation stands, whenever you need it.”  She made a point from that day forward of bringing some little treat for Hoss along with a dish or two of food.  At least, she could take over some of the cooking chores for Marie.  The young woman seemed to accept that kind of help more readily than help with Adam, anyway.

    Adam grew progressively worse, mumbling disconnected phrases meaningless to minds not ravaged by fever, and Ben and Marie began to fear for his life.  As both hovered over his restless form one endless night, Ben hadn’t the heart to order Marie away.  He knew she wouldn’t obey him tonight, for they both sensed that Adam would pass a point of crisis sometime before dawn streaked the sky with shades of auburn and orchid.

    Around 2 a.m. the boy began to sweat profusely.  “A good sign,” Ben insisted, and he was right.  By morning the fever had broken and Adam, for the first time in days, slept quietly.  Laura Ellis arrived early that morning and insisted both exhausted parents go to bed.  “If the boy’s on the mend, I can surely see to him for awhile,” she contended.

    “You’ll get no argument from me,” Ben said appreciatively, “and I’ll see to it this young lady behaves herself, too.”

    Marie laid her head wearily on his shoulder and smiled into his face.  “I shall make no argument either,” she murmured.  “Thank you, Laura.”

    Adam woke to find Mrs. Ellis at his side.  “Where’s my pa?” he asked feebly.

    “He’s asleep, dear; so is your mother,” Laura replied.

    For a moment Adam looked puzzled.  “She’s not my mother,” he murmured.

    “Stepmother, then,” Laura said, disapproval in her tone.  Adam heard it and closed his eyes wearily.  He’d spoken out of habit, out of his characteristic need for accurate statement, not disrespect to Marie, but he felt too weak to defend himself.

    The door opened and the woman they’d been discussing walked in.  “What are you doing back here already?” Laura hissed under her breath.

    “I woke up,” Marie said, as if that were explanation enough.  “How is Adam?”

    Laura looked at the closed eyes.  “He was awake, but I think he’s drifted off again.  He doesn’t need you, Marie, and the ungrateful little wretch doesn’t appreciate your help one bit, so you get right back to bed.”

    “He does not have to appreciate it,” Marie said hotly.  “He has only to accept it, and that, for now, he is powerless to deny me.”

    Laura faced her, arms akimbo.  “Marie Cartwright, you listen to me.  Adam’s fine, and it’s high time you started giving some consideration to your own baby.  Do you want to miscarry it because you’ve worn yourself to a frazzle nursing this—this—”

    “Be careful what you call my son,” Marie warned, fire in her eyes.

    Laura caught herself.  Whatever she thought of Adam, she was only upsetting Marie with her name-calling.  “All right, sweetie,” she said.  “I’ll watch my tongue if you’ll go back and lie down awhile longer.  I’m sure it’s what Ben would want.”

    “Well,” Marie hesitated, “if Adam is truly resting.”

    “He truly is,” Laura assured her.  “Let me take you back to bed, dear.”  She put her arm around the woman who, despite the bulk of her pregnancy, seemed so childlike that Laura naturally felt protective.  Marie let herself be led meekly back to her room.

    As soon as they left, Adam’s eyes flickered open.  Though Laura had thought him asleep, he wasn’t.  He’d heard every word of the women’s conversation, and remorse burned in him hotter than the fever that had oppressed him earlier.  He heard Laura call him ungrateful and, painful as it was, admitted he had been.  Marie had shown him so many kindnesses, but, with rare exceptions, he had rewarded her with aloofness, even open hostility.

    Now, if he’d understood correctly, she’d even risked the life of her baby to care for him.  Why? he asked himself, finally arriving at the only possible conclusion.  She loved him; she loved him that much.  He buried his head in the pillow, needing to cry, but too exhausted for the effort.  Weariness, however, didn’t prevent guilty questions from hammering his soul.  What if something did happen to the baby?  Adam hadn’t wanted that child, hadn’t planned to welcome it, had even in his darker moments wished it would just go away.  But what if his deadly wish came true?  What if Marie did lose the baby?  It would be his fault, not just because of the wish, but because he was the reason she’d endangered herself.  For all his stubbornness Adam had a sensitive conscience and it was tormenting him now.  He had to make things right, but he didn’t know how.  Too tired to think about it, his mind began to wander, and by the time Laura Ellis returned, he was asleep once more.

    Adam was oblivious to the people peeking in on him that morning.  Ben came, but finding Adam sleeping peacefully, went out to check ranch affairs with Enos Montgomery.  Hoss popped in and out of his brother’s room, only to be shooed away each time with admonitions not to waken Adam.  Marie returned around noon.  “You needn’t stay,” she told Laura.  “I am quite refreshed, as you see.”

    “I do?” Laura scoffed.

     “I could not sleep now if I tried,” Marie argued.  “I thank you for your help, Laura, but you need not fear to leave now.  You have work of your own to do.”

    “I do, for a fact,” Laura admitted.  “Promise me you won’t overdo.”

    “I promise,” Marie smiled.  She kissed Laura good-bye, then sat beside Adam, rejoicing in the feel of his cool flesh beneath her fingers.

    Eventually, Adam stirred and his black eyes opened to see her smiling down at him.  “Feeling better?” Marie asked softly.

    “Uh-huh,” Adam mumbled awkwardly.  Now was the time to say something, but the boy felt tongue-tied.  He had to try, though; he’d missed too many opportunities already.  “Uh—ma’am,” he began, still not able to call her mama, “I kinda remember saying some things when I first took sick.”

    “Yes?”

    “I—I think I said I didn’t want you,” Adam went on.

    Marie wasn’t nearly as refreshed as she thought, and in her weariness her naturally quick temper flared.  “I remember, too, Adam,” she said hotly, “but I don’t wish to discuss it.  I’ve heard enough of that kind of talk.”

    “No, listen,” Adam pleaded.

    “No, you listen,” Marie demanded.  “I know you dislike me; you always have.  I know you don’t want me; you never did.  It has all been said, but I beg you, Adam, not to hold that against my child.  You will be as much brother to my little one as you are to Hoss, no matter how you feel about me, and I could not bear it if my baby suffered because you hated his mother.”

    Marie’s voice had risen to a high, shaky pitch as she gave vent to fears she had harbored for months.  Then, seeing Adam’s shocked face, her lips began to tremble.  “Oh, I am sorry, Adam,” she choked.  “You are not well, and I am wrong to burden you now.  I do hope you will be kind to your new brother or sister, though.”  She bent over to tuck his covers snugly around him.  “Rest quietly now, and I will heat some broth for you.”  She walked quickly out before he could see her cry.

    As Adam watched her leave, two emotions struggled within him.  He was angry, hurt by the words she’d said, by the fact that she hadn’t given him the chance to say what he needed to say, but simple justice battled against his offended pride.  Without being a mind reader, how could his stepmother have possibly realized his attitude had changed?  She should have listened, of course, but she was tired.  Worn as he was himself, Adam could see that.  But if she wouldn’t listen, he’d have to find some other way, some way to show her what words alone were probably inadequate for anyway.  Adam sighed and turned to one side.  He’d have to think of something, but later.  Now he was too tired to think, too tired to eat, too tired to do anything but sleep.

    The fourteen-year-old began a slow, but steady recovery, and during that time he enjoyed an extravagant amount of pampering by the rest of his family.  When Hoss was home from school, he willingly ran errands for his big brother, bringing him books and papers from upstairs whenever Adam required them.  The invalid was usually enervated enough to retire directly after supper, Ben going upstairs with him to read Shakespeare every night.

    Most of the day, of course, Adam was alone in the house with Marie, confined by the chilly weather.  Day after day he sat in his blue armchair by the fire, wrapped in the cozy comforter she snugged around him.  He made a point of thanking her politely each time she showed him a kindness, hoping she’d notice that his feelings toward her had changed.  But while Marie did notice the improved behavior, she attributed it more to lack of energy than conscious effort.  She was grateful, though, that Adam accepted her solicitous attentions without complaint, without telling her once again that she was not his mother.

    Two weeks had passed since that night when Adam made his turn for the better.  The family was eating a breakfast of pancakes and sausage.  “Quit dawdling, Hoss,” Ben scolded.  “You’ll be late for school.”

    Hoss could think of nothing he’d like better than missing a few minutes of educational torment, but he dutifully shoveled in a mouthful of syrup-coated pancake.

    “Any special plans for today?” Ben asked Marie.

    “No, Adam and I will keep company at home today,” she replied, as she had daily since his illness.

    “I—I’d like to go out, Pa,” Adam suggested hesitantly.  “The sun’s bright today.”

    “Oh, no, the wind is still chilly,” Marie argued.  “You must not take fresh cold, Adam.”

    Adam bit his lip to stifle his irritation.  He knew she was only showing concern for him, only acting——well, the way a mother would act——but she couldn’t understand how badly he needed to get out.  “I’d wrap up warm,” he wheedled.  “I just want to ride over and see Billy.  It’s been weeks.”

    “Not since he was here,” Ben chuckled.  “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather ride over to see Sally Martin?”

    “Pa!” Adam protested.  He didn’t have to guard his words with Pa as vigilantly as with Marie.

    “It is not a time for teasing, Ben,” Marie chided.  “We must consider his health.”

    “I—I appreciate your concern, ma’am,” Adam said carefully, “but I don’t think it will hurt me to ride a few miles.  I’m feeling lots stronger.”

    “Wanna arm wrestle?” Hoss offered.

    Ben scowled and pointed at the front door.  “Out!” he hollered.  “You ought to be half-way to school by now.  Arm wrestle, indeed!”

    Hoss wiped his face with a checked napkin and, giving his mother a quick hug, raced for the door.

    Wide grin on his face, Ben turned back to Adam.  “Now that the distractions are gone—”

    “May I go?” Adam pleaded.  “It’s important, Pa.”  He couldn’t explain why, not with Marie standing by.  He’d thought of a way to demonstrate his newfound acceptance of her, but he needed help with his project.  Not Billy’s, however.  Seeing Billy was just an excuse to get out of the house.

    Ben reached over to pat the boy’s shoulder.  “Yeah, I guess it is important to get out after being cooped up so long.  That it, son?”

    Close enough, Adam figured.  “Yeah,” he said.  “So how about it?”

    “Ben, I do not think—” Marie began, but Ben raised a hand to silence her.

    “You may go, Adam,” he said, “provided you bundle up as you promised and don’t do anything strenuous while you’re over there.  No tearing up and down the territory on wild races with Billy.”

    Adam beamed.  “Thanks, Pa.”  His newly awakened concern for Marie’s feelings made him notice the frown on her face.  “I won’t overdo, ma’am; you needn’t worry.”

    The frown relaxed.  “And you must come home if you begin to tire,” Marie urged.

    “Yes, ma’am, I will,” Adam assured her, excused himself and headed for the barn to saddle his horse.

    “It is too soon, Ben,” Marie argued when he had gone.

    “I don’t think so, Marie,” Ben responded.  He came behind her chair and encircled her shoulders.  “You’re being a typical mother hen, but it’s time to let the chick leave the nest for a short flight.  The exercise will likely do him good.”

    Marie laughed.  “A mother hen, am I?  Well, perhaps so.  Have you noticed, Ben, how much more respectful Adam is these days?”

    “Yeah, I noticed,” Ben said.  “He’s growing up, Marie.”

    “Oui, I hope that is it,” she smiled, “though it is more likely that he is behaving so he can have what he wants, like visiting his friend.”

    “Umn, maybe,” Ben murmured, bending to kiss her cheek, “but I’ll take good behavior any way I can get it.  Have a pleasant day, my love.”

    Marie laughed.  “I think I, too, shall take a short ride in the sunshine.”

    “Not on your life!” Ben protested.  “Good lands, Marie, you’re six months pregnant!”

    “Now who is an old mother hen?” Marie tittered.

    Every day that week Adam requested permission to visit Billy Thomas.  Since Ben and Marie considered him too weak to return to his regular chores, they had no reason to object.  Marie, however, felt obligated to remonstrate when Adam returned later and later each day.  “He is avoiding me, Ben,” she sighed.  “That I can accept, but he must not make a nuisance of himself at the Thomases, and he is staying out until the air grows chilly.”

    “I’ll speak to him,” Ben promised.

    Speaking to Adam appeared even more essential when the sun dipped behind the mountains that night with no sign of Ben’s older son.  Finally, just as the family was sitting down to dinner, the front door opened.  “Is that you, Adam?” Ben demanded hotly.  “What do you mean staying out this late, young man?”

    Adam rounded the corner into the dining area, a bulky object covered by a blanket under one arm.  “Sorry, Pa,” he apologized, “but I wanted to finish this today.”

    Hoss left his chair and hustled to Adam’s side.  “What is it?” he asked, jerking at the blanket.

    “It’s not for you, greedy britches,” Adam snorted, pulling the bundle aside.  “It’s for——for Marie.”

    Marie stood, trembling fingers touching her lips.  “For me?” she asked as she walked toward him in a daze.

    “Uh-huh,” Adam mumbled, embarrassed by the number of eyes staring at him.  “I—I know I haven’t always treated you like I ought.  I didn’t want you here in the beginning.  I didn’t think we needed you, but I was wrong.  We do need you; we all need you——me, too——and I tried to tell you, but I guess I said it all wrong.  Anyway, I made this to show you, instead.”

    Marie had reached him by the time he finished his difficult speech.  She pressed her cool hands to his flaming cheeks, and in her moist eyes was a look of sublime joy.  “Oh, Adam!” she cried.  “It is the best gift you could give me.”

    “You ain’t even seen it yet,” Hoss argued.

    Ben laid a hand on the shoulder of each of his sons.  “She means the gift of love, Hoss,” he explained, “the greatest gift we ever give one another.”

    “Well, I wanna see the other,” Hoss complained.

    “As do I,” Marie laughed.  “Please show me.”

    Adam set the object down and lifted the blanket, revealing a small cradle carved with rosebuds on its head.  The rosebuds had been painted a delicate pink, their green vines arching graciously across the wood.

    “Oh, how beautiful!” Marie cried.  “You made this yourself, Adam?”

    “Uncle Clyde helped,” Adam admitted.  “He carved the rosebuds for me, but I painted them.”

    “That’s what you’ve been up to all these days at their place,” Ben said.

    Adam laughed.  “Well, you didn’t really think I wanted to see Billy that badly, did you?”  Marie had knelt beside the little cradle, and Adam squatted on its opposite side.  “I figure you’ll want a bigger bed for upstairs,” he said, “but you could keep this down here, and the baby could sleep right by the fire and stay nice and warm.”

    “Oh, yes,” Marie said, reaching across to brush back a lock of black hair that had fallen into his eyes.  “Such a thoughtful oldest son I have.”

    Adam flushed.  He couldn’t really think of her as his mother.  She seemed too young for that, but ‘son’ no longer sounded objectionable from her lips.  In fact, it sounded kind of nice.  Looking up, he saw his father smiling at him and knew whatever breach had existed between them was now erased.  They were once again a family, with more love than before because now there was one more person to share it and soon to be another.
 

Hoss leaned on the elbow of the blue armchair that Adam had insisted Marie take after supper.  “It’s closer to the fire,” Adam said, “and you chill easier than me.”

    “Ouch!” Ben said.  “Best watch your grammar, young man, if you hope to do well at the academy this fall.”

    Adam grinned.  “You’re right; I should polish it up.”

    “Ain’t you makin’ them booties awful small?” Hoss inquired, a worried pucker on his face.

    Ben groaned and slid down in the mauve chair across the room.  Where did a father begin to correct grammar that butchered?

    Marie’s knitting needles didn’t miss a loop.  “Babies are tiny things, you know, Hoss.”

    “Aw, no,” Hoss contradicted.  “No brother of mine’s gonna be that teensy.”

    Ben laughed.  “And what makes you so sure this baby will be a boy?  God does make them in another variety, you know.”

    “Not Cartwrights,” Adam alleged, looking up from his book.  “Your folks had nothing but boys, Uncle John just has cousin Will, and—”

    “Well, if John would stay home once in a while, he’d have more chance of producing a daughter,” Ben scoffed.

    “And you just have boys, Pa,” Adam continued, ignoring his father’s interruption.

    “Yeah, I admit Cartwright babies tend to be boys,” Ben smiled, “but even Cartwrights produce an occasional daughter, and this just might be the time.”

    “Nope,” Hoss grinned.  “It’s gotta be a brother.  I need one.”

    “To push around,” Adam teased.

    “No,” Hoss denied.  “I’m gonna teach him to milk cows and fish and——oh, lots of things.”

    “Like swimming?” Adam taunted.

    Hoss’s lower lip thrust out angrily.  Adam knew perfectly well he couldn’t swim, that he was, in fact, terrified of the water, but he didn’t need to bring that up in front of Pa.

    It was Adam, however, who received the rebuke from his father.  “That’s enough teasing,” Ben said, then wagged a playful finger at Hoss.  “As for you, boy, save a few things for your poor old father to teach the little lad.”

    “See!” Hoss crowed triumphantly.  “It is gonna be a boy!”

    Marie laughed.  “I hope so.  That is what I want, too.”

    “Oh, no,” Ben moaned.  “I’m clearly outnumbered.  Don’t you think I have sons enough?  A sweet, quiet little girl sounds mighty restful for a change.”

    “Then you had better pray she does not inherit her mother’s temper,” Marie laughed.

    “You have any names picked out?” Adam asked.

    “Just for a boy,” Marie tittered.  “I have always been fond of François.”

    “François!” Adam hooted.  “You wouldn’t!”

    “Adam,” Ben cautioned.

    Adam understood that his father meant he shouldn’t hurt Marie’s feelings, but some things were too important to leave to chance.  “But she can’t, Pa,” he protested.  “She can’t saddle him with a name like François; he’d never live it down.”

    Ben chuckled.  “I’m afraid he’s right, Marie.  I foresee a lifetime of fistfights for an American boy with an appellation like that.”  He smiled beguilingly at her.  “I’d always hoped to name my next son Joseph, in honor of my father.”

    “That’s better,” Hoss stated with a firm bob of his head.

    “Yes, I like Joseph,” Marie agreed, “and if it is a girl, I suppose we could call her Josephine.”

    Ben’s smile faded.  “I think I’d better start praying for a boy,” he muttered.

    The knitting needles dropped to Marie’s lap.  “And what is wrong with Josephine?” she demanded, temper flaring.  “If it was good enough for the Empress of France—”

    “It’s probably too aristocratic for a country girl,” Ben countered.  “Now, tell me, young lady, have you given any thought to my suggestion that you hire some help around the house?”  He felt a change of subject would be a wise move, but the topic he chose proved more volatile than the one he’d left.

    “Ben, I have told you many times,” Marie said hotly, “that I do not wish another woman in my kitchen.”

    “So, let her take over some of your other chores,” Ben urged.  The suggestion made perfect sense to his masculine logic, but Marie’s countenance continued to darken.  “I’m concerned that you’re working too hard, Marie,” Ben pressed, “especially in your condition.”

    “I will not be pregnant much longer,” Marie snapped.

    “Yes, but a baby means even more work,” Ben argued.

    “Ben, I do not wish to hear of this again,” Marie declared, face florid.  “I will care for my own children, and it will be a joy.”

    “I’m gonna take over the garden, Pa,” Adam offered, clearly feeling it was time for the intervention of a peacemaker.

    “Well, that’ll help,” Ben agreed.

    “And I could stay home from school to help Mama, too,” Hoss suggested.  “I wouldn’t mind a bit.”

    Ben guffawed.  “Oh, I’m sure you wouldn’t!”

    Marie smiled, her temper drowned by amusement.  “Ben, he meant well.”

    Ben shook his head, still laughing.  “I know an ulterior motive when I hear one.  You stick to your books, boy; you’re none too quick with them as it is.”

    Hoss plopped down on the broad hearth and leaned on his elbows.  Didn’t Pa see that that was the problem?  No matter how hard he tried, he always stood at the bottom of his class, and the other kids were more than ready to twit him about it.  He had a feeling Pa was gonna be awful disappointed when the final reports came out.

    Ben’s attention had moved back to Adam’s idea of planting the garden.  “You have all the seed you need?” he asked.

    “No, sir,” Adam replied, “but I figured I could get some more from the Thomases.  I thought I’d ride over tomorrow.”

    “Don’t bother,” his father said.  “I have to deliver some cattle to Walter Cosser for the boardinghouse, so I’ll stop by and get your seed.”

    “Okay, that means I can start spading up the garden tomorrow,” Adam said.  “If you get back early enough, I might get some planting done, too.”

    “I’ll try to,” Ben promised.

    Ben smiled with satisfaction as he rode toward the tree-lined banks of the Carson River.  He’d gotten a good price for his cattle from Walter Cosser, but the real reason for his contentment was the appearance of the cottonwoods.  You could always tell spring was coming when the gray-brown limbs of the cottonwood put forth its pale green buds.  Soon the air would be filled with snow-white tufts of cottony soft fibers.  The cottonwoods’ seedlings might pile against cabin walls like drifts of snow, but their floating flakes signaled that winter was over.  Though they sometimes made him sneeze, Ben welcomed them as a harbinger of spring; he was ready for sunny days again.

    He rode easy in his saddle, in no hurry to reach the Thomases.  It felt good to ride slowly, at peace with the world, no worries to drive him on.  Adam might be in a rush to get his seed in the ground, but Ben didn’t care if the garden waited until tomorrow.  Besides, Adam had some seed at home to start with.

    As Ben neared the river, he heard raucous laughter, almost drowning out another sound, the cry of a creature in pain.  He spurred his bay forward, topping a rise and looking down on a scene that chilled him, despite the warmth of the day.  Hanging by his pigtail from the arching limb of a cottonwood was an Oriental, no doubt one of the Chinese Reese had imported to dig his ditches.  Swinging him back and forth between them were three miners in rough red flannel shirts.  One drew back his boot and rammed its toe into the side of the little man dangling in the tree.  The Chinaman screamed with pain as his limp body swayed at the end of his hair.

    Face filled with fury, Ben charged down the slope to the river and flew off his horse, landing on the back of the man with the heavy boots.  Then two miners were on top of him.  Ben pushed them back and swung around, fists flying.  Three against one were daunting odds, but Ben had seen tougher brutes than this in his days at sea.  He felt confident he could handle the ruffians; they couldn’t be brave men, anyway, or they’d not find sport in tormenting so helpless a target.

    Ben decked one of his assailants, but the other two came after him with narrowed eyes and pumping arms.  As blows rained on Ben’s face, a cut appeared over one eye, bruises on his cheeks, but Ben inflicted as much damage as he endured.  Driving a hard punch into one man’s midriff, Ben saw the miner crumple to the ground and turned his attention to the remaining antagonist.

    Seeing himself left alone to deal with the irate rancher, the miner stumbled backward, raising his hands protectively.  “What’s your beef, mister?” he yelled.  “He’s just a Chinee.  Caught him jumpin’ our claim.”

    “Were you claim jumping, boy?” Ben hollered over his shoulder.

    “No, no jump claim!”  the young man cried.  “My claim!”

    Ben stepped toward the miner.  “We seem to have a difference of opinion here.  Don’t you have a miners’ court to settle this kind of thing?”

    “No one take the word of a Chinee over a white man!” the miner snorted.  “What’s the matter with you, mister?  Ain’t you got sense enough to stand with your own kind?”

    Ben turned purple.  His own kind!  The day he considered a coarse, bigoted bully his kind was the day he’d lose all self-respect.  He charged forward, grabbing the miner by his shirt collar.  “Get out!”  he shouted, thrusting the man ahead of him.  “Take these other louts with you, and if you ever bedevil this boy again, you’ll answer to Ben Cartwright!  I make myself clear?”  He shoved the man to the ground.

    “Yeah, clear enough,” the man panted.  He stood up, dusting off his britches.  “Danged yeller-lover,” he spewed as he stalked past Ben and helped his two cohorts to their feet.

    “Go on; get out!” Ben yelled again, and the three miners hurried to comply.  Ben walked over to the cottonwood, took out his knife and slit the rope tying the Chinaman’s queue to the limb.  He slid the youth, who appeared to be in his early twenties, to the ground and knelt beside him.  “You all right, boy?” he asked.

    Holding his side, the young man groaned.  Ben gently lifted the blue tunic and gingerly touched the bruised ribs.  “You need a doctor, son.”

    “No Chinese doctor here,” the boy said.

    “No, I’ll take you to my doctor,” Ben offered.  “He’ll take good care of you.”

    The little Chinaman’s head wagged wildly from side to side.  “No, no white man doctor.  No, no.”

    Ben laid gentle hands on the lad’s slim shoulders.  “It’s all right,” he soothed.  “He’s my friend; he’ll treat you well.  You need help, boy.”

    The almond-skinned man continued to shake his head, but, ignoring the gesture, Ben helped him to his feet and assisted him into the saddle.  Soon he was knocking on the door of Dr. Martin’s room at Cosser’s boardinghouse.

    Sally opened the door.  “Oh, Mr. Cartwright,” she said, then paled as she saw the bent form of the young man dressed in blue tunic and loose trousers.  “Is he hurt?”

    “Yes,” Ben replied.  “Is your father here?”

    “No, sir, but I expect him soon.  He just went up the canyon to treat a miner who struck his foot with a pick,” Sally answered.  “Bring him in, please.”

    About half an hour later Dr. Martin returned home and began to examine the patient.  The slanted eyes were white with terror, but once the Chinaman saw the doctor meant to help, not hurt, he calmed down and let the doctor tape his broken ribs.  “They’re just cracked,” Paul informed Ben, “but the boy should rest quietly for several days.”

    “I’ll see him home,” Ben said.

    “Not ‘til I stitch that cut over your eye,” Paul ordered sternly.  “The idea of a man your age picking a fight with three burly miners.  Didn’t it occur to you they might do more damage than I could repair?”

    “Never entered my mind.  You see the confidence I place in you as a physician,” Ben joked, then winced as the doctor swiped the open wound with alcohol.  “Of course, maybe it was misplaced.”

    “Quit whimpering,” Paul scolded.  “You didn’t see this boy carrying on like a baby, and he’s hurt worse than you.”

    “Where’s your folks, boy?” Ben asked as the doctor closed the cut with expert sutures.  “Over to Chinatown?”  When the mines in Gold Canyon seemed to be petering out, the white miners had deserted them for more promising ground, but the diligent Chinese, many of them deserters from Reese’s work crew, managed to eke out a living from the abandoned claims.  So many of them had moved into the area around Spafford Hall’s old station that it was now known as Chinatown.

    But the young Oriental shook his head.  “No folks,” he said.  “Hop Sing go you.”

    “Uh-oh,” Paul smiled, standing back to admire his work.  “I foresee a problem.”

    Ben frowned at him.  “Now, Hop Sing——that your name, boy?”

    The Chinaman beamed.  “Dat light.  Hop Sing.”

    “Well, now, Hop Sing,” Ben began again, “you’ll be much happier among your own people.  Surely, there’s someone who could look after you.  A friend, a partner?”

    Hop Sing shook his head.  “Hop Sing have no one.  Go you, pay debt.”

    “Oh, no,” Ben protested.  “You don’t owe me anything, young fellow.”

    “Owe life,” Hop Sing declared indignantly.

    “He’s not far wrong,” Dr. Martin observed, folding his arms.  “Many more blows to his ribcage, and he could have had a punctured lung.”

    Hop Sing nodded in vigorous agreement.  “Owe life,” he repeated.  “Not pay debt, lose face.”

    Paul started to laugh.  “I think you’re stuck, Ben.”

    Ben threw up his hands.  “What am I supposed to do with him?  The boy’s welcome to stay at the ranch until he’s well, of course, but he doesn’t strike me as much of a cowhand.”

    “Hop Sing velly good cook, velly good houseboy,” the Oriental proclaimed.  “You see, Mistah Cahtlight.”

    “What I’d like to see is Marie’s face when you bring home this little surprise,” Dr. Martin chuckled.  “What are the chances of being invited to supper tonight?”

    “Slim, doctor, mighty slim,” Ben muttered, scowling his contempt for his friend’s ill-time attack of humor.

    Unable to think of another alternative, Ben helped Hop Sing into the saddle and mounted behind him again.  The young Chinaman chattered constantly as they rode toward the Ponderosa.  Ben answered the numerous questions about his ranch and family, but between his curt responses he pondered the problem of how to tell his wife she had inherited a houseboy.  There wasn’t any easy way to say it, either; he’d just have to tell her straight out and wait for the rafters to crack.  Of course, Clarence Williams was a master builder.  The roof might hold.

    He dropped Hop Sing at the side of the barn.  “Now, you wait outside until I’ve had a chance to break the news to Mrs. Cartwright.  You understand, Hop Sing?”

    “Hop Sing unnastand English velly good, Mistah Cahtlight,” the young man declared proudly.  “Speakee good, too, you see.”

    “Oh, yeah, real good,” Ben muttered, rolling his eyes in an appeal to heaven.

    Wondering how he’d broach the subject, Ben entered the front door with a tentative step.  The only one in sight was Adam.  “You’re late,” the boy chided.  “We expected you hours ago.”  The boy’s black eyes snapped wide.  “What happened?” he demanded.

    “Huh?” Ben asked, then all at once it hit him.  He had no hope of sneaking up on the subject with his face clearly testifying to the fight he’d been in.  “It’s nothing, Adam,” he said, palm raised to shush the boy.

    But Adam was already raising the alarm.  “Marie!” he yelled.  “Pa’s hurt!”

    Marie flew in from the kitchen.  “Oh, Ben!” she cried, running to caress his battered face between her hands.

    Ben pulled her hands away.  “Now, now, it’s nothing, my love.”

    “Nothing!” Marie protested.  “Look at your poor face.”

    “You been fighting, Pa?” Adam demanded.

    Hoss came barreling down the stairs.  “Pa!” he hollered.  “What’s wrong?”

    Ben moaned.  “Another country heard from.  Now, listen, all of you.  I’m all right.  I did get into a scuffle, but Doc Martin patched me up.  No harm done.”

    “You said fighting was no way to solve a problem,” Adam reprimanded.

    “Well, it can’t always be avoided,” Ben snapped.  Suddenly, he was standing in a pool of silence.  “Look, I’m sorry,” he said, “but you’re all leaping on me before I’ve had a chance to explain.”

    “Of course, Ben, you are right,” Marie said.  “Come, boys, let us all sit down and let your father speak without interruption.”

    The boys moved to the fireplace and sat side by side on the hearth while Marie escorted Ben to the mauve armchair.  “Now tell us what has happened,” she said.

    Before Ben could respond a sharp rap sounded on the door.  Ben groaned.  Not yet.  He’d told the boy to wait.  He stood quickly, face flushed.  “Now, Marie, don’t be upset,” he cautioned.  “I wanted to prepare you first, but I think I’d better let the boy in before he beats down the door.”

    “Boy?  What boy?” Marie queried.

    Ben didn’t answer, just scurried to the door and opened it to admit Hop Sing, who bowed deeply.  “I wait long time, Mistah Cahtlight,” he chided.  “You not come.”

    “Not long enough,” Ben muttered under his breath.  Aloud, he said, “Come in, Hop Sing, and meet my family.”  He pointed to the perplexed woman standing by the fire.  “This is Mrs. Cartwright and those are my two boys, Adam and Hoss.”

    Hop Sing beamed.  “Velly happy meet you, Missy.  Velly happy be part of Pondelosa.”

    “Part of Ponderosa?” Marie babbled, her emerald eyes raised questioningly to Ben.

    Ben put on his bravest smile.  “A surprise,” he offered boldly.  “Someone to help around the house.  You said you didn’t want another woman in your kitchen.”

    “So you bring a man?  Oh, Ben!” Marie shrieked.

    Alarm flew into Hop Sing’s face.  “Oh, Missy,” he cried.  “Hop Sing velly good houseboy, you see.  Cook, clean, ev’lyting.”  He stared at her protruding belly.  “You need help, Missy.”

    Marie could only stare at him, speechless.  Choosing to take her silence for acquiescence, Hop Sing looked around the room.  “Where kitchen, please?  I fixee good dinner light away.”

    “I—I’ve already started dinner,” Marie whispered.

    “Uh, Adam, why don’t you show Hop Sing to the kitchen?” Ben suggested hastily.  “I need a moment with Marie.”

    “It’ll take more than one,” Adam grinned, hopping up.  Ben scowled at him, but Adam knew his father was in too much trouble of his own to take him to task for his sass.  “Come on, Hop Sing,” he said.  As he led the Chinaman to the kitchen, Hoss fell into line behind them.  He was fond of his mother’s cooking and felt obligated to see that the intruder didn’t do anything to ruin it.

    “Now, Marie,” Ben began, “if you’ll please sit down, I can explain.”

    “I doubt you can do so to my satisfaction, monsieur,” she declared, flaring her skirt over the sofa arm as she plopped down on the cushion.

    Ben sat on the table Clyde had made and took both her hands.  As quickly as he could, he described seeing Hop Sing dangling from the cottonwood, told her about the fight, the trip to see Dr. Martin and Hop Sing’s insistence on returning to the Ponderosa with Ben as repayment of the debt he felt he owed.

    As she listened, the fire drained from Marie’s eyes.  “So you did not really plan this, to bring me a man because I did not want a woman’s help?”

    “Good lands, no!” Ben protested.  “Marie, dearest, I wouldn’t.  I just didn’t know what else to do with the boy.  He says he has no where to go, and the doctor says he needs rest.”

    “Like cooking and cleaning?” Marie smiled.  “If you think that is restful, mon mari, you may try it yourself.”

    “I’ve done it many times,” Ben reminded her with an upraised eyebrow.  “The work is the boy’s idea, his way of saying thanks.  Now, I figure if we let him do a little work around the place, he’ll consider the debt repaid and go back to his own people.”

    “Oh, I don’t know, Ben,” Marie murmured.

    “You can’t deny you could use some help cleaning this big house,” Ben smiled.

    Marie laughed.  “No, I won’t deny it.  I am so slow these days that there is always work I cannot finish, but—”

    “Then let the boy help out a few days,” Ben suggested.  “It’ll be good for both of you.”

    “Well, I will try,” Marie agreed, standing, “but now I must return to the kitchen to check on dinner——my kitchen, I remind you, monsieur.”

    Over the next few days it became maddeningly apparent that the kitchen no longer belonged to Marie.  Hop Sing had taken over——lock, stock and cooking pot.  He deferred to Mrs. Cartwright’s right to plan the meals, but demanded the preparation be left to him.  He did not, of course, know how to prepare all the family’s favorite dishes, but he was a quick learner.  “I have only to show him once, Ben,” Marie reported, “and he knows what to do.”  And once he knew, Hop Sing tolerated no help in the kitchen.

    Soon he’d taken over the laundry, as well.  This time Marie made no protest.  Though nowhere near as large as Inger or even Elizabeth had been at this stage, her advancing pregnancy made bending over a washtub uncomfortable and lifting clothes heavy with water an agony.  She willingly delegated the detested chore to her new houseboy.

    As if he hadn’t already proven himself useful enough, Hop Sing began bringing a tray of coffee and toast to Ben and Marie’s bedroom each morning.  “I feel like a princess,” Marie giggled as, propped against her pillow, she munched a slice of toast spread with marmalade.

    Beside her, Ben chuckled.  “Not such a bad idea I had, hiring that boy, huh?”

    “It was not your idea, as I recall,” Marie smiled, “but, no, not a bad one.  He spoils me, hardly letting me lift a finger.”

    “Good,” Ben said, raising the appendages she’d mentioned to his lips.  “These fingers are too beautiful to be ruined by work, my princess.”

    “A little work will not hurt even a pregnant princess,” Marie tittered.

    “So knit another pair of booties,” Ben laughed as he drained his cup and slid out of bed.

    “A pink pair, perhaps?” Marie teased.  “For our little Josephine?”

    Ben moaned.  His wife had the memory of an elephant.

    While Marie felt some frustration at the usurpation of her traditional roles by Hop Sing, Ben was sure her discomfort was nothing compared to the abuse he was enduring from their friends.  Dr. Martin, frequently too busy to come for his traditional Saturday night dinner and chess match, somehow managed to work in a visit the first Saturday after Hop Sing’s enthronement as king of the kitchen.  Sitting catercorner to Ben, Paul had smirked at him throughout the meal as Hop Sing scurried around the table, making certain each person’s plate and coffee cup remained filled.  “Just what you need,” Paul teased, “someone to bully you into a hearty appetite.”  He gave Hoss, seated on his left, a solid squeeze.  “I’ve been worried about this scrawny child, you know.”

    “Scrawny child,” Ben snuffled.  “Scrawny as a bag of potatoes that one is.”

    Paul laughed, then nodded toward Marie.  “This one on the other hand could use a bit of fattening.  Not having morning sickness at this late stage, are you, Marie?”

    Marie shook her head.  “No, that ended months ago, and my appetite is healthy, Monsieur Doctor.”

    Hop Sing, moving behind her chair, frowned.  “Missy need eat more, eat for two now.”

    “Absolutely right, Hop Sing,” Dr. Martin pontificated with twitching lips.  “I’m putting you in charge of it.”

    Hop Sing stood as tall as his diminutive stature would permit.  “Hop Sing take velly good charge,” he vowed and disappeared into the kitchen.

    “Now look what you’ve done,” Ben scolded.  “Don’t we have enough problems without your going out of your way to create them?”

    “Me?” Paul Martin protested.  “You’re the one who cut him down from that cottonwood.”

    “Oh, Daddy, don’t be mean,” Sally chided from across the table.  “As if you’d have just left the poor little man there.”

    “I might have,” her father said, “cowardly as it seems.  I’d think twice before I’d risk leaving my child an orphan.”

    “There wasn’t that much risk involved,” Ben argued.  “Bullies tend to be cowards themselves, doctor.”

    “Maybe,” Paul conceded, patting his lips with a white linen napkin.  For guests, Marie always laid out her finest damask tablecloth and sparkling crystal.  “Marie, you look quite well, but as long as I’m here, it wouldn’t hurt to see how things are coming along.”

    “I’d appreciate that,” Ben said, then scowled teasingly at his friend.  “Make it almost worth putting up with you.”

    “Humph!  You’re just peeved because you know you’re about to lose another game of chess,” Paul snorted as he escorted Marie into the downstairs bedroom for a brief exam.

    By the time they came out, Ben had the chessboard set up on the table Hop Sing had quickly cleared.  “How is she?” he asked.

    “I am fine, Ben,” Marie assured him.

    Ben arched an eyebrow.  “I wasn’t asking you, my dear.”

    “She’s fine, Ben,” Paul smiled, “a little smaller than I’d expect at this stage, but that’s just her build, I think.  The baby is undoubtedly small, too, but he has a sturdy kick and seems very active.”

    “Can I feel him kick?” Hoss asked.

    “Mais oui,” Marie said, beckoning him forward.

    Hoss laid his palm flat on his mother’s belly.  “Oh, ho!” he hooted.  “That’s no kick; he’s just squirming around.”

    Marie reached down to tickle his stomach.  “If you could feel it as I do, you would think otherwise, mon cher.”

    “Ready for a walloping?” Ben asked, gesturing toward the chessboard.

    “Ready to give one,” Paul announced, raising his eyebrow in imitation of Ben’s favorite expression.

    The two friends sat down to amiable rivalry, while Adam entertained Sally with the latest song he’d learned on the guitar.  Marie sat on the sofa, Hoss’s head in her lap, as the soft music gently lulled the younger boy to sleep.  The evening ended without further chiding, however playful.

    Dr. Martin’s humorous response to the new member of the Cartwright household was gentle compared to the scornful words with which the Thomases reproached Ben when the Cartwrights arrived for Sunday dinner the next day.  Adam had ridden over to their place the day following Hop Sing’s arrival to get the seed his father had had no time to obtain, so both Clyde and Nelly already knew about the Chinaman’s presence at the Ponderosa.  Both freely voiced their fierce opposition.

    “Must’ve been out riding without your hat that day,” Clyde sputtered.

    “How’s that?” Ben demanded.

    “Sun-touched,” Clyde snorted.  “Only explanation for lettin’ one of them filthy Chinee in your house.”

    “He looked clean to me,” Hoss offered, his small face screwing up with puzzlement.

    “He is,” Ben snapped.  Hoss hunkered down in his chair, not understanding that his father’s wrath was not directed at him.  “What’s got into you, Clyde?”

    “I’ve heard how them Chinaboys do laundry,” Nelly put in.  “Sprayin’ clothes straight out of the mouth is as filthy a habit as I ever heard of.”

    “Yeah,” Ben admitted, “but we put a stop to that first thing.”

    “Hop Sing knows he must do things the American way or leave,” Marie added.

    “The girl’s hit on the real problem,” Clyde said.  “Them Johns ain’t American nor likely to be.  They got foreign ways.”

    “Like Mormons?” Ben smiled.  The Mormons were the only other group Ben could remember Clyde’s showing such prejudice against.  Well, them and the Indians.  Clyde had never forgotten the Paiute arrow that had lamed his leg.

    But Clyde refused to see any humor in Ben’s remark.  “Worse than Mormons, even,” he alleged.  “Mormons may overdo family by a wife or two, but Chinamen don’t go for family at all.  Ain’t a woman among ‘em.”

    “And that ain’t natural,” Nelly added.

    “Oh, that’s ridiculous,” Ben scoffed.  “How many white men came west alone during the gold rush?  It’s no different with these Orientals.  They came here to make their fortune and take it home to their families.”

    “Take it out of the country,” Clyde accused, “not back East like the forty-niners.”

    “That’s true,” Ben agreed, “Maybe the government should do something about that, but it’s no reason to call hard-working men unnatural or to act like they have something against family life.”

    “Well, maybe not,” Nelly conceded.  “I worry about their heathen ways, though, Ben.  With a new baby in the house, especially.”

    Hoss sat up quickly.  “He—he wouldn’t hurt my baby brother, would he?”

    “No, son, of course not,” Ben assured him.  He turned back to Clyde and Nelly.  “Look, my friends, you’ll be coming to dinner next Sunday.  See for yourselves what a fine, decent young man Hop Sing is.”

    “Well, I don’t know,” Nelly fretted.

    “Aw, Ma, come on,” Billy urged.  “I got a yen to taste some of that Chinee cookin’.”

    Ben smiled.  He couldn’t wait to see the expression on Billy’s face when Hop Sing served up Yankee Pot Roast.

    A week later the Thomases left the Ponderosa somewhat ameliorated.  “I reckon he’s decent enough,” Nelly commented as Clyde helped her into their wagon that afternoon.

    “For a Chinee,” Clyde groused.  He didn’t like admitting he was wrong after the strong words he’d used earlier.

    “All the same,” Nelly continued, frowning at Clyde’s interruption, “I’ll expect you to be callin’ me when it’s time for the baby to come.  You can’t let this yeller play midwife to our little girl, Ben.”

    “I thought I’d leave that role to Paul Martin,” Ben chuckled.

    “Get in this wagon, Billy,” Clyde yelled.  “I’ve taken about all the Cartwright sass I can handle for one day.”  He sounded irritated, but the amiable wave of his hand as he drove off told Ben and Marie he was joking.

    As the weeks passed, with both Dr. Martin and the Thomases making repeated visits to the Ponderosa, Hop Sing’s slippers shuffling around the table soon seemed as natural as the boots of Ben’s ranch hands stirring up dust elsewhere on the ranch.  A good thing, too, for the young Chinaman showed no inclination to leave.  Ben may have considered his rescue of the little Oriental a debt easily and quickly repaid, but in Hop Sing’s eyes a saved life merited a lifetime of service.  Though the Cartwrights wouldn’t realize it for some time, the Chinese houseboy had become a permanent addition to the Ponderosa.
 

Adam smoothed crumbled earth over the pumpkin seeds he’d just dropped into the ground, stood and wiped his brow.  He’d already planted watermelons and cucumbers that afternoon and hoped to replant a new stand of beans before suppertime.  Thirsty, he walked to the edge of the garden plot and took a long swig from his canteen.  The water was lukewarm now, but it helped.

    Adam dropped into the scant shade of a nearby birch and sighed.  At times like this he almost regretted offering to tend the garden for Marie.  Today was the kind of day a fellow liked to spend in the saddle, sniffing the blossom-scented breeze, letting its gentle touch cool his sweating body.  Still, Marie shouldn’t be the one out here sweltering under a hot sun.  Not with the baby due in just six weeks, according to Dr. Martin.  Besides, Adam figured he owed her for all the misery he’d caused her before.

    Responsibility was nothing new to Adam.  It seemed as rooted in his nature as the onions and potatoes he’d planted a month earlier now were in the garden.  So, once he’d rested a short while, he trudged back to the broken earth, determined to do his duty.  He had another incentive besides his admirable sense of responsibility:  Spring roundup was scheduled to begin in about two weeks, and Adam hoped to have the garden in good enough shape to let it lie while he took on the more satisfying role of wrangler.  Any weeding that needed to be done could easily be delegated to Hoss, who’d be out of school by then.

    Adam looked up, surprised to see his younger brother riding toward him.  Usually, Hoss headed straight for the house to get his chores and homework done early after snacking on milk and cookies.  Of course, this was the last full day of school, with only the closing program tomorrow night remaining, so there wouldn’t be any homework.  “Hey!” Adam saluted his brother as the younger boy slid off his gray mare.  “Come to give me hand?”

    “Unh-uh,” Hoss said.  “I—I think I got troubles, Adam.”

    Adam stepped carefully over the row of lettuce at the edge of the garden.  “What kind of troubles?” he asked, laying an arm across Hoss’s sturdy shoulder.  “Those Mormon boys still ragging you about being a gentile?”

    “Sure,” Hoss said, “but it’s worse than that.  F—final reports came out today; I ain’t looked, but I think it’s bad news.”

    “Aw, doggone,” Adam sympathized.  It wouldn’t sit well with Pa if Hoss had done poorly.  “Let me see,” he said.

    Hoss handed over the envelope and Adam scanned its contents.  “Whew!” he whistled.

    Hoss quivered.  “Bad, huh?  Bad enough for a lickin’?”

    “Pretty bad,” Adam acknowledged.  “Why didn’t you tell me you were having this much trouble?  I’d’ve helped with your lessons if I’d known.”

    “Yeah, I know,” Hoss said, “but you was sick so long, and I didn’t want to bother you or Mama then.  And—and you know how Pa is.”

    Adam nodded.  Ben Cartwright actually made a good teacher, at least for other people’s children.  While he never intended to intimidate his own boys, however, he had an uncanny ability to strike them with a fear equaled only by that with which the Israelites faced fiery, smoke-shrouded Mount Sinai.  Both Adam and Hoss cringed whenever they failed to meet their father’s expectations, preferring to hide their shortcomings, if possible.  Obviously, it wouldn’t be possible this time, and panic was evident in Hoss’s blue eyes.

    Adam gave the younger boy a comforting rub on the shoulder.  “Look, it’ll be all right,” he promised.  “I’ll talk to Pa first and try to calm him down before he lights into you.”

    “Would you, Adam?” Hoss pleaded, throwing his arms around the older boy’s waist.  “You’re the best big brother in the world.”

    “Yeah,” Adam said.  “Help me finish planting these beans, then we’ll head for the house.  You can hightail it upstairs to clean up and I’ll find Pa and talk this over man-to-man.”

    Looking like a load of grain had been lifted from his shoulders, Hoss eagerly grabbed a handful of bean seed and followed Adam into the garden.

    Ben led his bay into the barn that evening, tired from his day’s work.  Hearing a step behind him, he turned.  “Oh, Adam,” he said.  “Stable my horse for me, will you?”

    “Sure, glad to,” Adam agreed.

    “I’m gonna catch thirty winks before supper,” Ben said.  “I’m beat.”  He headed for the door.

    “Uh, Pa?” Adam began tentatively.  “I need to talk to you.”

    Ben stretched to work the kinks from his back.  “Can it keep?”

    “Don’t think so,” Adam muttered, mouth twisted.  It was a risk, of course, talking about Hoss’s troubles while Pa was tired, but Adam didn’t think the little fellow could handle shivering under a cloud of descending doom much longer.

    “All right, what is it?” Ben asked, brushing at the dust on his pants.

    “Pa, you—you know what a good-hearted boy Hoss is,” Adam began.  “As good a boy as a man could hope to have.”

    “Both my boys are,” Ben said, folding his arms and gazing carefully into Adam’s nervous face.  “Want to tell me what the soft soap’s for?”

    The boy winced.  How did Pa always manage to read him so easily?  Well, no sense holding back the dismal news.  “Hoss got his final report today, Pa,” Adam said.

    “Not a good one, is that it?”

    “Yes, sir, that’s it.”

    “And sent you to face me with it instead of coming himself?” Ben asked.  “That doesn’t bode well.”

    “I volunteered,” Adam said.  “I figure it to be my fault, as much as his, that he didn’t make out the way you’d like.”

    Ben arched an eyebrow.  “I’d be interested to know how you figure that, Adam.”

    “Yes, sir.”  Adam took a deep breath.  “It’s like this, Pa:  we all knew Hoss was having a hard time, but when I was helping him every day, he managed to keep up.  Then I took sick and he had to go on by himself.  After I got better, I got wrapped up in making that cradle and then with the garden and just never gave a thought to whether Hoss needed help.”

    Ben’s face eased.  “I see your point, son.  I guess we all got caught up in other concerns and just assumed Hoss was getting along all right.  There’s no need for you to assume the blame, however; you couldn’t help getting sick.”

    “No, but afterwards—”

    “No, son, if there’s blame to be cast, it falls on me.  I should have taken a more regular interest in his marks,” Ben said.

    “He’s scared you’re gonna lick him, Pa,” Adam said.

    Ben smiled.  “Not if he’s done his best.  That’s all I ever ask of you boys, you know that.”

    Adam nodded, though he entertained a certain degree of doubt.  What his father said was probably true; the rub came in trying to determine what Ben Cartwright considered a boy’s best.

    “Where is your brother?” Ben asked.

    “In his room getting washed up for supper,” Adam replied.

    “And doing the most thorough job of his life, I’d wager,” Ben chuckled.

    “Probably,” Adam grinned, satisfied with the way he’d smoothed things over for Hoss.  If Pa was laughing, he likely wouldn’t be too hard on the boy.

    Ben entered the house only to be met by a flustered Marie.  “Ben, I am worried,” she said.  “Hoss has not returned from school, and he has never been so late before.”

    Ben gave her a reassuring kiss.  “He’s here, Marie, probably snuck up the back way.”

    “But why?”

    “Bad report card,” Ben whispered.  “I’m going up to talk to him.”

    “Be gentle, Ben,” Marie murmured.

    Ben frowned slightly.  Why did everyone act as if he were some sort of tyrannical ogre?  Compared to his own father, he was leniency personified.  He walked up the stairs and rapped on Hoss’s door before entering.  “I understand you have a report to show me,” he said when he stood face to face with Hoss.

    Hoss, whites of his eyes showing, gave two slow, solemn nods.

    “Well, let’s see it,” Ben said.  Hoss handed him the report and bit his lip as Ben read it.  It was worse than Ben had suspected; a failing mark was printed beside practically every subject.  “This isn’t good, Hoss,” he said, returning the paper to his son.

    “No, sir,” Hoss said, his voice shaking.  “I’m sorry, Pa.”

    “I have only one question,” Ben said.  “Did you do your absolute best?”

    Hoss shuffled uneasily from foot to foot.  “Well, I did try real hard, Pa, but I might could’ve tried a little harder.”

    Ben smiled and, sitting on Hoss’s bed, patted the mattress beside him.  “I appreciate your honesty, son.  That’s more important to me than all the book learning in the world.”

    Hoss sat next to his father.  “Pa, I don’t see why I need that book learnin’ anyway.  I ain’t no good at it, and I’d a thousand times rather tramp the woods.”

    “Because you are good at that?”

    “I am, Pa,” Hoss said proudly.  “I know all about birds and squirrels and every kind of flower and tree there is, and nobody had to teach me, either.”

    “Yeah, those things come natural to you,” Ben agreed, “but you’re missing something, son.  You see, if a fellow only tackles what comes easy to him, he never grows into a man.  Growing up is all about facing challenges.  You want to grow up, don’t you, Hoss?”

    “Yeah, Pa, sure I do.”

    Ben held the boy close.  “Then you’ve got to face the challenge of learning your letters, face it head on, and not give up ‘til you conquer it, because if you let it conquer you, you’ll do the same with other challenges that come your way later on.”

    “Yes, sir,” Hoss said, “but I don’t see how I can, Pa.”

    “We’re all here to help you,” Ben said.  “Should have been doing that all along, but in fairness, you should have asked for help before things got this bad, Hoss.”

    “Yes, sir,” Hoss mumbled, looking edgy again.  “You gonna whup me, Pa?”

    “No,” Ben said.  “You deserve some discipline for failing to do your best, but a whipping would be excessive.  Instead, I want you to spend an hour each day this summer going over your reader with either Marie or Adam or myself.  Maybe by the time school starts again, you’ll be better prepared.”

    “Okay, Pa.”  Inside, Hoss was groaning.  He’d looked forward to the end of school, to spending his days riding and fishing and playing in the sunshine.  Now all that loomed before him was a summer filled with the lessons he loathed.

    “There’s one other thing, Hoss,” Ben said gravely.  Hoss looked up.  “Sneaking up here the way you did caused your mother to worry that some harm had come to you.  You owe her an apology and greater consideration in the future.”

    “Yeah, Pa,” Hoss agreed quickly.  “I’ll go right down and tell her I’m sorry.”

    Ben tousled his son’s sandy hair.  “Good lad, but don’t do that just yet.  I saw some lovely wildflowers blooming just down the east slope.  Why don’t you run pick some for your mother?  When you’ve offended a lady, it’s always best to come bearing gifts.”

    “I know just where they are,” Hoss cried and ran for the door.  He hesitated a moment, then turned to face his father.  “Thanks, Pa,” he said, “for not being mad at me.”

    Ben came across the room to hold his son by both shoulders.  “Are you that afraid of me, Hoss?”

    Hoss gulped.  “Not most times, but—but I know how proud you are of the way Adam does in school, and I wanted you to be proud of me, too.”

    Ben gave the boy a consoling hug.  “I am proud of you, Hoss, proud of your gentle ways, your kind heart, your helpfulness——all the qualities that make you such a special person.  You don’t have to be like Adam to earn my respect, boy.  Just be your own best self and that’ll be good enough for Pa——or anyone else whose respect is worth having.  Now go pick those flowers.  Supper’ll be ready soon.”

    Hoss grinned and took off down the back stairs.  He returned quickly to present Marie with a handful of carefully selected red paint brush, mixed with blue lupine.  “These are for you, Mama,” Hoss said, “to say I’m sorry for worrying you.”

    “Thank you, Hoss,” Marie, who had been apprised of Hoss’s difficulties, said gently.  “They are very sweet——like you.  We will put them in water and they shall make our dinner table beautiful.”

    As Marie headed for the kitchen to find a vase, Hoss sat on the hearth and idly rocked the cradle that sat near it.  “I wish I could give the baby a present, too,” he sighed, “but I couldn’t make anything this nice.”

    Adam looked up from the book he was reading.  “I’ll help you make something, Hoss.  How about a rattle?”

    “Yeah, that’d be good,” Hoss said.  “Do we have time before the baby comes?”

    “Plenty of time,” Ben assured him.  “The baby won’t be here for another month, month and a half.”

    “Okay, thanks, Adam,” Hoss said, dropping his voice to a whisper, “but let’s keep it a secret.”

    “Okay,” Adam grinned, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

    Marie had just finished discussing the day’s meals with Hop Sing as she did each morning.  Passing through the dining room, she smiled at the vase of wildflowers sitting on the table.  For the last ten days Hoss had kept her supplied with beautiful blooms.  These were beginning to droop a little, so he would likely appear at lunchtime with a fresh handful.

    Marie quickly grabbed for a chair as an unexpected wetness trickled down her thighs.  She recognized the feeling, having experienced it once before, but it wasn’t possible.  How could her water be breaking now, when the baby wasn’t due for another month?  She pressed her hands to her abdomen, as if willing the infant to remain inside for the full nine-months.  At least, there were no contractions yet.  That was a good sign, wasn’t it?  Something was clearly wrong, however, and Marie realized she needed help.

    The two boys were working nearby in the garden now, Adam being anxious to get Hoss trained to take over for him when roundup started at the end of the week, but she couldn’t walk that far.  Hop Sing!  Of course.  He could find the boys and they could go for help.  Moving cautiously, Marie returned to the kitchen.  “Hop Sing,” she whispered.

    The little Chinaman looked irritated.  “Food all planned, Missy,” he scolded.  “Hop Sing have much work.”

    “Yes, but I—I need help, Hop Sing.”

    The irritation dissipated immediately.  Obviously, it made all the difference if Missy Cahtlight needed him.  “What you need, Missy?  Cup tea, maybe so?”

    Marie shook her head.  “I need you to go to the garden and ask Adam and Hoss to come to me.”

    The Oriental bristled.  “Hop Sing houseboy, Missy,” he said with evident offense.  Obviously, in Hop Sing’s opinion, houseboys were not required to chase down children and deliver messages.

    “I know, but it’s important,” Marie cried, a tear sliding down her cheek.  “Something is wrong, Hop Sing, and I need them to go for help.”

    Alarm replaced the offense.  “Wlong, Missy?  With baby?”

    Face taut, Marie nodded.  “But don’t tell the boys that.  Just say I need them.”

    “Go light away,” Hop Sing declared.  He ran to the garden, chattering Chinese nervously.  When he arrived, he stood at the edge of the garden plot and yelled.  “Mistah Adam, Mistah Adam——you come!”

    Frowning, Adam stepped over rows of sprouting plants.  What could the man possibly want?  “What is it?” he asked when he was close enough.

    “You come house,” Hop Sing dictated.  “Missy want you at house.”

    “Me, too?” Hoss, following in Adam’s wake, asked.

    “Dat light,” Hop Sing said.  “Velly important.  You come, please.”

    “What’s up?” Adam demanded.  “We got work to do.”

    “You come chop-chop,” Hop Sing demanded with a stamp of his slippered foot.

    “If Mama wants us, we better,” Hoss said.

    “Yeah, I guess,” Adam grumbled.  Didn’t Marie understand how much he had to do if he was to be free to join the roundup?  He and Hoss trudged back to the house but couldn’t see Marie anywhere.  Calling her name, Adam mounted the stairs.  From the end of the hall he heard her voice, though he couldn’t distinguish the words.  It must be coming from her bedroom.

    Adam entered to see Marie taking a nightdress from the armoire.  Going to bed in the middle of the morning?  That didn’t make sense.  Suddenly, Adam’s heart leaped into his throat.  “What’s wrong?” he cried.

    “I don’t know,” Marie murmured, “but something.  I—I think the baby is trying to come, Adam.”

    “But you said not for another month,” Hoss protested from the doorway.  “How’ll I get my rattle finished in time if he comes now?”

    “Hush, Hoss,” Adam ordered.  He turned back to Marie.  “What do you want me to do, get Doc Martin?”

    “Yes, yes,” Marie said, “and if Hoss could find your father—”

    “Sure,” Hoss said quickly.

    “Get going, boy,” Adam said, pointing his finger out the door.  Hoss took off for the barn to saddle his horse.  Adam glanced back at Marie.  “You need anything before I go?”

    Marie smiled.  How thoughtful Adam had grown these last few months!  “No, I am just going to lie down and rest quietly until the doctor comes.  That is best, I think.”

    Adam bit his lip.  “Yeah, you rest easy,” he said, then ran down the stairs after Hoss.

    Marie had just slipped into her nightgown when Hop Sing entered, carrying a tray.  “Bling tea, Missy,” he said.  “Make feel better.”

    Marie nodded.  Yes, a cup of tea did sound relaxing.  “Just what I need, Hop Sing,” she whispered.  “Thank you.”

    The little Chinaman beamed, but as he left, his smooth face grew furrowed.  Missy looked worried and that worried him.

    Having a shorter distance to travel, Hoss completed his errand and had his father home again long before Adam arrived with Dr. Martin.  Ben went into the bedroom to find Marie weeping into her pillow.  “Dearest, what’s wrong?” Ben asked, sitting beside her and smoothing her tousled golden hair.

    Marie turned and reached for her husband’s comfort.  “Oh, Ben,” she sobbed.  “My labor has started and it will not stop.”

    “Oh, no,” Ben moaned.

    “What’s wrong with that?” Hoss asked innocently.  “I don’t mind gettin’ my baby brother sooner.”

    Moaning in agony, Marie put her hands over her face.

    “Shut up, Hoss,” Ben snapped.

    Marie’s hands immediately flew to Ben’s cheeks.  “Oh, no, Ben,” she rebuked, pressing his face gently between her palms, “you must not scold; he doesn’t understand.”

    Ben nodded.  Marie was right, of course.  How could a six-year-old understand what a premature birth might mean?

    Marie was reaching her hand toward Hoss now.  The boy came forward hesitantly, not sure what he’d said to make his father erupt so harshly.  “Hoss, would you do one thing more for me?” Marie asked.

    “Yeah, sure,” the youngster stammered awkwardly.

    “Please go to Mrs. Thomas and ask her to come.”

    Ben’s face registered surprise.  Though Nelly had offered to come——in fact, demanded it after the introduction of Hop Sing to the household——Ben had assumed, when the time came, his wife would prefer the company of Laura Ellis, a woman nearer her own age.  Come to think of it, though, what his young wife probably needed right now was a motherly presence, and Nelly fit the bill better than Laura.  “Go on, Hoss,” he urged.  “Tell Aunt Nelly that the baby’s coming now and your mother needs her.”

    “Yes, sir,” Hoss said, leaving the room readily.  Something was obviously wrong, and he was glad to do whatever he could to help.  Besides, anything was better than staying here where no one would explain anything and might bite your head off if you asked.

    He rode faster than he ever had and reached the Thomas cabin in record time.  “Aunt Nelly!” he yelled, flopping off his horse and running into the house without knocking.

    Nelly came into the parlor from the kitchen.  “Lands sakes, Hoss!  You give me a scare stormin’ in here like the house was afire.”

    “Mama needs you!” Hoss cried.

    Nelly grabbed him by both shoulders.  “Calm down, boy, and tell me what’s happened.”

    “I don’t know,” Hoss grumbled.  “Nobody’ll tell me nothin’, but I’m supposed to tell you the baby’s comin’ now and Mama needs you.”

    “Oh, no,” Nelly murmured, removing her apron at once.

    Hoss’s face screwed up with irritation.  Another adult acting like the world was coming to an end just because his baby brother was a little over anxious to come into it.  “What’s wrong with him comin’ now?” Hoss demanded.

    “Oh, Sunshine,” Nelly soothed, folding the boy in her arms.  “It’s dangerous when they come early.  The baby may not be full growed, maybe not enough to live.”

    “Not live?” Hoss stammered.  “Y—you mean my little brother might die?”

    Nelly nodded gravely.  “We’ll be prayin’ the good Lord keeps him safe, though, Sunshine, so don’t you fret.  They sent for the doctor, I reckon?”

    “Yeah, Adam’s fetchin’ him,” Hoss replied.

    “Well, that’s good; likely he’ll know just what to do,” Nelly said.  “Now, you ride on back and tell your folks I’ll be there just soon as I can get Inger ready and my wagon hitched.”

    “I’ll hitch it for you,” Hoss offered.  “Then you can leave quicker.”

    Nelly gave his stout shoulder a pat.  “Now, that’s good thinkin’, boy.”

    Meantime, Dr. Martin had arrived at the Ponderosa and examined Marie.  He took her hand consolingly.  “No help for it, Marie; this baby’s determined to see the world now.”

    “Can the child survive this early?” Ben asked.

    Paul Martin shrugged his shoulders.  “There are risks, of course, but I’ve heard of infants born earlier than this who survived.  It depends mostly on how developed the lungs are.  No way to know until the baby’s born, Ben.”

    Marie groaned.  “The pain, it is bad, doctor.”

    Paul patted her hand.  “That’s the price women pay for this miracle of life, my dear.  You’ll forget it once you hold that sweet child in your arms.”

    Marie bit her lips.  “It seems different from the first time.  It doesn’t feel right.”

    Paul’s eyes narrowed.  Most of his colleagues would have discounted the young mother’s feelings as unscientific evidence, but he had learned that patients often had an uncanny ability to sense when things weren’t right in their own bodies.  He wouldn’t tell either of the anxious parents of his concern yet, however; time enough for bad news when it was verified by observation.

    When Hoss arrived back with Nelly, Adam was sitting nervously by the fireplace.  “I seen a rig outside; that the doc’s?” Nelly asked him as she untied her bonnet and laid it on the table.

    “Yeah, he’s upstairs with Pa,” Adam reported.  “I reckon you can go up.”

    “You boys keep an eye on Inger for me,” Nelly said and started up the stairs.  She put a cheery smile on her face in the hallway and entered the bedroom after rapping lightly on the door.  “How’s our little girl doin’, doc?” she asked breezily.

    Before Dr. Martin could answer Marie gave a cry of relief and stretched her arms toward Nelly.  The older woman hurried to her side and wrapped her in strong, supportive arms.  “There now, honey lamb,” she cooed.  “It’ll be all right.”

    Paul took Ben’s arm.  “Let’s leave the women alone for awhile,” he suggested.

    “Scoot on out,” Nelly ordered.  “The father shouldn’t be up here in any case.  Bad luck for him to watch the birthin’.”

    “Old wives’ tale,” Ben muttered as soon as Paul had escorted him into the hall.

    “Yes, but I wouldn’t pick this time to challenge it,” Paul warned.  “Women can get real irrational during the rigors of labor, so even if one wants to do something as unreasonable as putting a sharp knife under her mattress to cut the pain, I usually go along with it.  I don’t have anything better to offer.”  He clapped Ben on the shoulder.  “How about a cup of coffee?  This could be a long siege, my friend.”

    Ben nodded and after an apprehensive glance at the closed door behind them, headed downstairs.  Coffee might help them through the hours of waiting, but what would help Marie?

    The boys leaped to their feet when the two men descended the staircase and bombarded them with questions.  How was Marie?  Would the baby be all right?  Was he really coming soon?

    “Whoa, whoa,” Dr. Martin said.  “I can’t answer that many questions at once.  Truth is, I can’t answer most of them yet; we’ll just have to wait and see.”

    Wait.  That’s what they did, hour upon hour.  Wait and listen to the anguished cries of pain descending from the room upstairs.  Ben paced the floor before the fireplace ‘til Adam was sure he’d soon rub it right through to the foundation.  Occasionally, he’d drain another cup of coffee, which only seemed to increase his nervous agitation and the frenetic urgency of his pacing.

    “Is it always like this?” Hoss whispered to Adam after hearing a particularly sharp scream.  To pass the time, his older brother had been helping him finish the rattle for the baby.

    Licking his lips edgily, Adam shook his head.  “Your mother didn’t holler like that.”

    Hearing the soft discussion, Ben turned and came to kneel beside Adam’s chair.  He laid one hand on the older boy’s knee and took Hoss’s hand with the other.  “Inger was strong,” he explained, “a large, peasant woman she always called herself.  She had a lot of pain, too, but it’s harder on Marie because she’s so small and delicate.”

    “Like my mother?” Adam asked nervously.  He couldn’t forget that his own mother had died in childbirth and had been sitting there for hours worrying that maybe his stepmother might, too.

    Knowing Adam as he did, Ben read the thought without its being expressed.  “Marie’s even smaller than she was,” he said honestly, “but your mother had been ill, Adam.  She went into labor already weak.”

    “And Marie’s healthy,” Adam said to reassure himself, but he needed his father’s confirmation.

    Ben read that thought, too, and said at once, “Yes, Marie’s healthy.”

    Hop Sing set a tureen of soup on the table.  It wasn’t what he and Mrs. Cartwright had planned for dinner that morning, but the Chinaman reasoned no one would have a large appetite tonight.  He did intend, however, to see that everyone ate.  “Supper leady now, Mistah Cahtlight,” he announced firmly.  “Ev’lybody eat now, please.”

    “Be right there, Hop Sing,” Ben said.  He wasn’t hungry, but thought he should set a good example for the boys.  They both complied willingly, but Hoss was less cooperative when Ben announced his bedtime later.

    “I wanna stay up ‘til the baby comes,” Hoss whined.

    “Hoss, it could be hours,” Ben said patiently.

    “Aw, let him stay up,” Adam urged.  “Who could sleep through that?”

    Ben frowned, but he supposed Adam had a point.  In his own room, Hoss would be even closer to his mother’s suffering.  Maybe it was better to keep him downstairs.  “All right, Hoss,” he conceded.  “I’ll make you a bed here on the sofa.  You don’t have to sleep if you’ll lie quiet.”

    “Okay,” Hoss agreed quickly, feeling lucky to have his father relent even that much.

    Ben had rightly judged that, once settled down and quiet, Hoss would soon sleep.  So the younger boy was not awake when Nelly came scurrying down the stairs.  “Ben,” she said urgently, “the doc wants to see you.”  As Ben started past her, she grabbed his arm.  “Ben, it’s a breech,” she hissed.

    Ben’s face went ashen and he took the stairs two at a time.

    “What’s a breech?” Adam asked urgently.  Though Nelly had spoken only for Ben’s ears, he had heard.

    “Lands, ain’t you seen enough animals birthed to know that?” Nelly asked.

    Adam shook his head.  “What’s it mean?” he demanded.

    “Baby’s comin’ out backside first,” Nelly whispered.

    Adam didn’t need anyone to explain what that meant.  Though he hadn’t recognized the term, he had seen a calf born that way the previous summer.  It had died from lack of oxygen before its head emerged from the birth canal.

    Nelly looked down at Hoss, slumbering peacefully on the sofa, and suddenly remembered her own child.  “Where’s Inger?” she asked.

    Adam gestured toward the downstairs bedroom.  “Pa laid her down in there,” he said.  “She dozed off right after supper.”

    “Well, that’s good,” Nelly said.  “I’ll check on her before I go back up.”

    Upstairs, Dr. Martin had drawn Ben into a corner.  “It’s a breech birth, Ben,” he said.

    “Nelly told me.”

    Paul nodded.  He had assumed she would, but he had to be sure Ben understood.  “It’s a breech, and she’s small, Ben.  I know it’s hard, but I need you to tell me what to do if worse comes to worst,” the doctor said quietly.  “If it comes to a choice, do you want me to save the mother or the child?”

    Ben turned away, unwilling to face the grim possibility.  Still, there was only one decision he could make.  They could have other children, God willing, but there was only one Marie.  “My wife,” he whispered.  “Save her, Paul; keep her alive for me.”

    Paul dropped out of the role of physician momentarily to give his friend an encouraging embrace.  “I’ll do all I can——for both of them.  I promise.”  Ben nodded and went to his wife, kissing away the tears on her cheeks, but he left when Nelly returned.  He didn’t believe old wives’ tales, but he figured they needed all the luck they could muster for the fearful minutes ahead.  All the prayer, too.  He walked downstairs pleading with God for the lives of his wife and child.

    The wait seemed interminable as Ben stood with his head bowed against the mantel and Adam’s arm consolingly across his back.  Marie’s anguished cries grew louder, more frequent.  Ben jerked away from the fireplace and held his hands to his ears.  He couldn’t bear it, couldn’t bear hearing her suffer another moment.  Then, suddenly, the air was split with a different cry, sharp and thin, a cry of anger rather than pain.

    Adam started to grin and dashed to the sofa, shaking Hoss’s shoulder before Ben could stop him.  “It’s here,” he told his younger brother.  “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

    Hoss sat up, rubbing his eyes.  “What’s here?”

    Adam laughed.  “The baby, what else?”

    Ben rushed past them and charged up the stairs.  Dr. Martin stopped him outside the bedroom door.  “Give Nelly a minute to clean him up, Ben,” he said, smiling.  “You have another bouncing baby boy, my friend.”

    “And—and Marie?” Ben pressed.  Dear God, let her be all right, too!

    “Weak, exhausted,” Dr. Martin reported, “but she’ll be all right.”  Ben would have collapsed had the doctor not caught him.  “There, there now,” Paul soothed.  “It’s all over.”

    Ben panted with relief.  “And the baby?  Is he sound?”

    Paul laughed.  “Are you kidding?  Didn’t you hear that lusty cry?  Nothing wrong with that boy’s lungs.”  He gave Ben’s back a hearty pounding.  “Quit worrying and get in there, man.  Your new son wants to meet you.”

    Ben grinned, hurried into the room——and gasped.  His wife lay drained against the perspiration-drenched pillow, but in her arms she held the tiniest, but most beautiful baby Ben had ever seen.  Hoss and Adam had both been born virtually bald, but this little one’s head was covered with soft, golden brown hair.  And from his delicate, handsome face peered a set of emerald eyes exactly like his mother’s.  “He’s you, Marie,” Ben murmured, awestruck.

    Nelly stood to one side, beaming.  “Ain’t he, though?  The spittin’ image.  I never seen a prettier babe, Ben, my own included.  Makes me wish he was mine.”

    Ben laughed with delight, but Marie’s reaction was alarmingly different.  Her frantic fingers clutched at Ben’s sleeve.  “No, no,” she pleaded weakly.  “Do not let her take him.  Please, Ben, she must not take him.  Not again.”  She fell back, exhausted.

    Ben knew instantly what Marie meant.  “No, my love, of course not.  She won’t take your baby.”

    “Well, of all the ungrateful—” Nelly exclaimed and stormed out the door.

    Ben winced.  Marie had not, of course, been referring to Nelly, but that was obviously what his old friend thought.  He couldn’t let her leave under a shroud of offense.  “Marie, I’ll be back soon,” he whispered and ran out the door.

    Paul Martin grabbed his elbow as he dashed past.  “What’s wrong?” he demanded, having been almost knocked down by Nelly’s mad flight.

    “Misunderstanding,” Ben muttered.  “Stay with Marie.”

    Still befuddled, Paul nodded and went to his patient while Ben ran down the stairs.  Nelly already had her bonnet on.  “Nelly, for the love of mercy, wait,” Ben shouted.

    “What’s wrong, Pa?” Adam cried.  “Why’s Aunt Nelly upset?”

    Nelly marched toward the door of the bedroom where Inger lay sleeping.  Ignoring Adam, Ben rushed across the room.

    “Hey, is it a brother or a sister?” Hoss demanded.

    “Brother!” Ben yelled, then clasped Nelly’s elbow with iron fingers.  “Will you hold up a minute?” he pleaded.

    “I reckon I know when I ain’t wanted,” Nelly snorted with a proud toss of her head.  “After all the hours I sat by that girl’s bedside soothin’ her fears, and she thinks—”

    Ben laid his fingers across her lips.  “She didn’t mean you,” he said.

    Nelly planted both hands on her hips.  “Don’t let her take him, she said, and last I looked, I was the only other woman in the room.”

    “No, you weren’t,” Ben said.

    “Ben!” Nelly snorted.

    “No, listen,” Ben pleaded.  “You may have been the only living woman in that room, but there was another presence there, a ghost from the past.”

    Nelly shivered.  “A ghost?  Whose ghost?”

    “Madame D’Marigny,” Ben muttered bitterly.  “Jean’s mother.  Didn’t Marie ever tell you what happened when her first baby was born?”

    Nelly looked shocked.  “Never even told me she’d had another.  I thought this was her first.”

    Ben shook his head.  “No, she had a little boy with Jean, too, though I’m certain he never knew.  Jean’s mother, a woman of great power and influence in New Orleans, had the child taken from Marie within hours of his birth.  He died soon afterwards, and Marie never saw him again.  Never even saw his grave.”

    Nelly’s face grew redder, but her anger had changed direction.  “Ben, that’s horrible,” she fumed.  “How could anyone part a child from his mother?”

    Ben shook his head.  Such cruelty was beyond explanation.  “Don’t you see?” he pleaded with Nelly.  “In her weakness, her weariness, her mind drifted back to that time, and all she could think of was the fear it might happen again.  When you said you wished the baby were yours, she confused you with Jean’s mother for a moment.”

    “Well, of course, I see that now,” Nelly said.  “I shouldn’t’ve been so quick to take offense.  That poor little lamb!”

    “Then, you’ll stay?” Ben said.

    “Certainly, I’ll stay!” Nelly sputtered.  “As if I’d leave the care of that sweet child to that yeller.”

    “Pa,” Hoss yelled, leaning over the back of the sofa.  “Am I gonna get to see my brother or not?”

    Ben laughed, relieved.  “Yeah, come on up.  You can’t stay long, ‘cause Mama’s tired, but it’s time you met that little brother of yours.”  They tiptoed into the bedroom.  “I found a couple of louts downstairs who are mighty anxious to see this little fellow,” Ben said as he bent to kiss his wife’s forehead.

    Marie smiled at the boys, but seemed troubled.  “Where is Nelly, Ben?” she asked, obviously not remembering her earlier mutterings.

    “Just downstairs; she’ll be up soon,” Ben said.  No need to explain what had happened.  Misunderstandings were best forgotten.  He took the baby from Marie’s arms and presented him to his brothers.

    Hoss and Adam huddled close, gazing into the miniature face.  “He’s beautiful, Marie,” Adam whispered, smiling at her, then at the baby.  “Hi, Joseph.”  He looked up at the baby’s parents.  “It is Joseph, isn’t it?”

    “That’s right,” Ben said.  “Joseph François Cartwright.”  He’d added the middle name as a concession to his wife.  After all she’d been through, she deserved the name of her choice, but Ben was wise enough to stick the French title in the middle where it wouldn’t be as likely to cause trouble for this small American boy.

    Hoss giggled.  “Aw, no, Pa.  That name’s bigger than he is.  He ain’t even big enough for Joseph.  Better call him Joe——Little Joe, at that.”

    Ben laughed.  “Yeah, I like the sound of that.”  He kissed the baby’s diminutive forehead.  “Welcome to the family, Little Joe.”

    Hoss touched the baby’s tiny fingers.  “Was I ever that small?” he asked, awed.

    Ben and Adam exchanged an amused glance, then both answered together:  “Never!”

    Ben noticed that Marie’s eyes were closing wearily.  “Time to go, boys,” he said.  Understanding his father’s concern, Adam at once took Hoss’s arm and herded him out the door.  Ben laid the baby beside Marie.  “Sleep, my dear ones,” he whispered and kissed them both.

    Late that night, when everyone else was asleep, Ben stood by the bedroom window, gazing into the starlit sky.  The window was open and he could smell the pine-scented breeze, the aroma of home.  Looking down at his slumbering wife and son, Ben released a sigh of deep contentment.  He was a lucky man——no, not just lucky——blessed.  Blessed beyond measure by the love of three wonderful women, blessed with three fine sons, the fruit of their love.

    Blessed, too, to see his dreams becoming reality.  Elizabeth, who’d given him Adam, had shared that dream, but never lived to see its first seeds planted.  Inger, whose gift was Hoss, had carried those seeds west with him, but she, too, had died before they could take root.  And now Marie had given him another gift of love, another precious little boy, and with his birth Ben felt he had all a man could hope for to make his dreams come true.

    Those dreams were, of course, just beginning to show the first green sprouts of all would come later.  But everything was in place:  a loving family, a prospering ranch, even a blossoming society of friends and neighbors.  Everything a man needed to build a heritage for the future.  “Your heritage,” Ben whispered as he stroked his new son’s downy soft hair.  “Yours and your brothers’.”

    There’d been a time——was it only a year ago?——when his life had centered around his sons, when he’d thought it complete with just Hoss and Adam.  But as he gazed at the new baby, Ben was glad his dream had changed to include this little one and his mother, as well.  He was richer, far richer, with them in his life.

    Ben looked once more through the window.  He couldn’t see far into the darkness, and he couldn’t, of course, see into the future.  He didn’t need to.  His dreams might blossom and grow in directions unforeseen, but what mattered now was that they had taken root.  Dreams, like gardens, required a lot of care, but they yielded a harvest more enduring than pumpkins and parsnips.  And the joy of harvest lay as much in the work of the growing season as in the final reaping.  Ben smiled in happy anticipation of the work——and the harvest——that lay ahead as buds turned to blossoms——then, developing plants——and in the fullness of time, mature fruit.