The small group of passengers gathered on the deck of the clipper, Surprise , to watch the approaching harbor while the cries of the gulls circling overhead mixed with the orders being barked at the crew.  One middle-aged man turned to the youth standing next to him.  “That’s Boston Harbor.  Won’t be too much longer before I’ll be home with my family and you’ll be on the road to Harvard College.”

“I can’t wait.  I’ll bet you can’t either,” the boy, who was tall and slim with curly black hair and the long, slender legs of a colt, replied with a grin.  He gazed at the activity going on at the fast approaching harbor.  “It’s been fifteen years since I was last in Boston.”

“You never mentioned you’d been here before,” the other man remarked in surprise.

“I guess I didn’t,” the younger man said with a shrug.  “I was born here and I lived here until I was between two and three.  My mother’s father still lives here.  He’s going to meet me when we dock.  I’m looking forward to seeing him again as much as I am attending Harvard.”

The dock was crowded with people, mostly sailors and longshoremen.  The tall, dark-haired young man looked around trying to spot anyone who might be his grandfather.  Suddenly he heard, “Adam Cartwright?” spoken in a deep, gruff voice and spun around to face a portly man with a neatly trimmed white beard.

“Grandfather,” he queried uncertainly.

“Aye, Adam, I’m your grandfather.  It’s good to see you again, lad.”  Adam held out his hand but Captain Stoddard took it and pulled him into a hug.  Then he stepped back and asked briskly, “Are those two valises all your luggage?”  Adam nodded, picking up the valises, so the Captain added, “Right now we need to get you on your way to Cambridge.”

Adam followed Captain Stoddard, who effortlessly threaded his way through the beehive of activity on the dock, to the cab waiting to drive them across the Charles River to Cambridge.  As they rode along, Adam noticed his grandfather couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off him.  Captain Stoddard suddenly realized he was making Adam uncomfortable and said apologetically, “I’m sorry for staring, but I’d forgotten how much you resemble your mother.  I’m pleased that you’ve your father’s height however.”

“My mother was small?” Adam asked arching one eyebrow quizzically.

“She was a tiny little thing,” Captain Stoddard answered wistfully, “just like her mother.  I remember she didn’t stand any higher than your father’s shoulder.  She never let her lack of inches stop her from speaking her mind though,” the Captain said with a fond smile.  He shook himself out of his reverie and said seriously, “I am glad you were still able to come after your family’s tragedy.”

“Pa insisted,” Adam replied in a flat voice.  “Marie wanted me to attend college and he wanted to make sure her wish came true.  It was really hard on Joe though.  I think he’s afraid that I am going away forever just like his mother.  I tried to explain and so did Pa, but he’s just too young to understand.  Hoss didn’t cry in front of me, but I know he’s not happy about me going either.”

“I know from your letters that the three of you are very close,” the Captain said slowly.

“Yeah.  I’m going to really miss them, but I promised that I’d write often and they said they’d write me.”  He smiled a little.  “Hoss hates to write so I don’t know how many letters I’ll get from him, and Joe’s just learning to write so he’ll have to have help from Pa.”

“Your father is an excellent correspondent so I can assure you that you’ll be receiving plenty of letters from him,” the Captain said encouragingly.  “You didn’t mention it, but have you decided what you intend to study?”

“Yes, I have,” Adam replied.  “I’ve been accepted at the Lawrence Scientific School.  It’s the newest professional school at the college.  I considered the Medical School and Paul Martin, our doctor, recommended it; but I don’t think I have the temperament to be a physician.”

“Did you consider the Law School?” the Captain queried, feigning disinterest.

“Not seriously.  My two passions are mathematics and understanding how things work so I am confident that I made the right choice.”

“It’s your decision,” the Captain agreed although privately he was disappointed that Adam had no interest in pursuing a career in law, which was often a steppingstone into a career in government.  “Now, you know where you’ll be staying, correct?”

“Yes, sir.  The college wrote me,” and he pulled out an envelope stamped with Harvard’s seal—a shield with the Latin motto, Veritas, written on three books, “that I would live at Massachusetts Hall.  My tutor told me what he knew about Harvard.  He said it was designed to be like Oxford and Cambridge in England.  Two students share a suite of bedroom and study, and the suites open onto long hallways.  Students eat their meals at the Commons.”

The Captain nodded and then said, “Your father had already sent me money and had me open a bank account for you in Cambridge long before you sailed, so that is taken care of.”  He smiled tentatively and then said, “I know you’ll be busy settling in, but I hope you can visit me this weekend.”

Adam shyly returned his grandfather’s smile.  “I would love to, Grandfather.”  He paused and then said hesitantly, “I’d like to talk with you about my mother if I may.  It still hurts Pa to speak about her, so I don’t ask, but I’d really like to know more about her.”

“You can talk with me, Adam,” the Captain replied, blinking back the moisture in his eyes.  “Talking about her makes her come alive for me.”
 

Adam arrived at Harvard College with his two large valises in hand.  He took in the red brick buildings that formed a quadrangle.  But which was Massachusetts Hall?  He saw another young man walking by so he said loudly, “Excuse me.”

The other young man stopped and asked, “Yes?” in a brusque tone.

“Could you tell me which building is Massachusetts Hall?” Adam asked diffidently.

The other student took in the valises in each of Adam’s hands, his too-long hair curling over his collar, and his unfamiliar accent.  “Freshman, huh?” he said in a condescending tone.  “You’re rather late.”

“I know,” Adam replied evenly.  “My ship didn’t arrive in Boston until this morning.”

The other raised his eyebrows at that but pointed and said, “That’s Massachusetts Hall.  If I were you, I’d hurry.”

Adam set off with long strides in the direction indicated.  He had to endure a lecture on his late arrival but eventually he was told his room number.  He hurried up the stairs and walked down the long corridor carefully reading the numbers on the doors.  Finally, he saw the door he was looking for.  It was closed so he set down one valise and knocked lightly.

“Come in,” said a slightly nasal voice.  He opened the door, picked up his other valise, and stepped inside.

The small room had two desks and chairs and each desk had a lamp.  Sitting at one of the desks was an extremely thin young man Adam’s age with mousy brown hair parted down the middle, large amber eyes under heavy brows, and a beak of a nose.  His face reminded Adam of a raptor’s.

“Hello,” Adam said warily.  “I’m your roommate, Adam Cartwright.”

“Aaron Wharton,” the other young man said standing up and holding out his head.  “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show up.”

Adam shook his hand firmly saying, “I had a long way to travel.”

“Where are you from?” Aaron asked curiously.

“My family owns a ranch in western Utah.  I traveled over the Sierra Nevada mountains to San Francisco and from there I traveled by clipper ship to Boston.”

Aaron whistled.  “I guess you did travel a long way.  Up until now I’ve never met anyone who lived further west than the Berkshires.”

Adam smiled tentatively and then said, “How about you?  Where are you from?”

“My family owns a farm near Shelburne Falls,” Aaron replied.  “That’s in western Massachusetts.  We’ve farmed there since 1699.  I’m the first in my family to attend college.”  He grimaced a little adding, “My father doesn’t see what use a farmer has for a college education, but he finally said if it meant that much to me, he wouldn’t stand in my way.”

“He sounds like my father,” Adam said with a wry grin.  “My stepmother helped me convince him to let me attend college.”  He stopped then and arching one thick black eyebrow asked quizzically, “What are you studying?”

“I convinced my father I could learn practical things if I enrolled in the Lawrence Scientific School.”

“I’m enrolled there, too,” Adam said dimpling.  “I can hardly wait for classes to begin.”

“Right now you’d better get unpacked,” Aaron said with an answering grin.  “The bedroom is through here.”

Adam went through the connecting door and saw a small room with two identical beds (except that one had a bare mattress), two washstands and shaving mirrors, and two battered and scarred wardrobes and chests of drawers.  He quickly unpacked his other frock coat and trousers and hung them in the wardrobe with the pair of canvas work pants he’s bought at Levi Strauss & Co in San Francisco.  (Since he could pack only a minimum of clothing, his father had given him extra money and told him to visit a tailor in Boston.)  Then he carefully placed the linen dress shirts Marie had sewn for him along with two work shirts—one of red flannel and the other of blue calico—and his socks, handkerchiefs, ties, kid gloves, and second waistcoat in the chest of drawers along with his drawers, undershirts, and nightshirts.  Next he took out towels, sheets, blankets, and a rather squashed pillow from the larger valise.  He placed one set of sheets in the chest of drawers with the towels, and then he began to make his bed with the other set while Aaron perched on his narrow bed and watched.

As Adam finished his bed, Aaron spoke up.  “I have one piece of advice.”

“What’s that?” Adam asked.

“It may be the fashion to wear one’s hair that long out West, but I recommend you visit a barber as soon as possible.  In the meantime, I can at least trim it for you.”  Adam looked skeptical but Aaron said with a smile, “I cut my younger brother’s hair, and I would only trim the back, honest.”

Adam took another look at his reflection, noting how long and how curly his hair was, and said with a self-deprecating grin, “I think I’ll take you up on your offer.”

“Take off your coat then and sit down,” Aaron replied with a matching grin.  “We have just enough time before supper.”  He rummaged in his chest of drawers and pulled out a pair of scissors.  “I knew they’d come in handy,” he added with a lopsided grin.

As he snipped at Adam’s hair he asked, “So what classes are you taking this term?”

“First, I have analytic geometry,” Adam replied.

“I’m taking that.  We can go together,” and they shared a smile, both relieved that they would be able to enter their first class with someone they knew and could sit with.

“Then I have English literature,” and Aaron shook his head at that.  “Greek?”

“I’m taking Hebrew,” Aaron replied.  “How about history?”

“Yes, I’m taking history,” Adam said.  “Do you know which building is which?”

Aaron nodded and said, “I’ll show you after supper.”  He grinned broadly then.  “Say, do you even know where “university minor” is?”

Adam frowned.  “I don’t even know what it is.”

“I didn’t either so I can save you from embarrassment.  It’s what they call the privies,” and Adam rolled his eyes.  “Finished.”  Aaron pulled out his pocket watch, saying, “We’ll have to hurry to make it to the Commons on time.  Hope you like cod because I’m told that’s what we’re having tonight along with baked beans.  I have a wager with myself that we’ll be served baked beans at every meal but breakfast.”

When they walked into the Commons, Adam felt overwhelmed for a moment.  He’d never seen so many boys his own age before in a single room.  They were as noisy as a herd of stampeding steers.  He and Aaron got their food and found a place to sit, introducing themselves to the others at the table.

“I can tell you’re not from around here, Cartwright,” said one of the other students at the table—a thickset young man with protuberant blue eyes and a weak chin named Winchester.  “I’ve never heard an accent like yours.”

“I’m from Western Utah,” Adam replied.  “My family owns a ranch near Lake Bigler.”

“You’re joking,” Winchester sneered.  “I’m surprised that you had even heard of Harvard out on the frontier, let alone were able to pass the entrance examinations,” and Adam clenched his jaw to keep from making a retort.  “We’re on our way to one of Boston’s finest brothels.  You’re welcome to come along with us and sample the delights civilization has to offer.”  He turned to his friends with a leer.  “I’ve heard Indian squaws are all that’s available on the frontier.”

“No thanks,” Adam said quietly and Aaron said the same

“It looks like the farm boy and the cowboy are a pair of prudes,” Winchester jeered.  The others got up from the table laughing.

“I’d rather be a prude than a rake,” Aaron said quietly.

“I suppose I was naïve to think I wouldn’t find that attitude here at college,” Adam added reflectively.

“Uh-yup, you were naïve,” said another voice behind them and they both turned around to see that one of the other students had returned.  “Thomas Collingsworth, if you didn’t catch my name before,” he said extending his hand.  He was short and slender with patrician features and very fine, silvery-blonde hair.  Adam and Aaron exchanged a look and then they each shook Thomas’s hand.  “Don’t be too hard on Winchester and the others,” Thomas added, sitting back down at the table.  “They were taught the same manners you were but they look on Harvard as a chance to escape the parental eye.  Also,” he added, “they aren’t scholars; they are only here because their fathers, grandfathers and great-grandfathers are alumni and I’m afraid they plan on spending their time drinking and whoring.”

“They’re friends of yours?” Adam asked arching an eyebrow.

“We all attended Governor Dummer Academy,” and seeing their blank looks he added, “It’s a preparatory school—prepares you for college.”

“I studied with a tutor,” Adam replied and Aaron added, “I had extra tutoring from our schoolmaster, who was a Harvard graduate.”

“I was considered an oddity at the academy because I actually enjoy learning.  I’m planning on studying the classics here and literature is my real love.  What about you two?”

“Mathematics is my passion,” Adam answered.  “I’m enrolled in the Scientific School.”

“As am I,” Aaron added.  “I’m more interested in biology and botany.  Hope to be able to use what I learn to improve our farm.”

“And I want to learn how to use mathematics to solve engineering problems.  I can think of lots of uses for that on our ranch.”  Adam stopped then and said, “Aaron and I have two classes together—history and analytic geometry.”

“I’m taking history,” Thomas said with a smile.  “Are either of you taking Latin or Greek?”

“I’m taking Greek,” Adam replied and Thomas said, “Well, maybe we can sit together.  I think we’re going to be studying The Odyssey.  Should be interesting reading it in the original language.”  He grinned at them both saying, “I should caution you that the history professor is appalling.  My older brothers warned me to be prepared to die of boredom.”  As they finished eating, Thomas shared some of the stories he had about life at Harvard from his father and older brothers.  Since he’d visited the college several times, he took Adam and Aaron on a tour of the Yard.  They finished the evening at a tavern in Cambridge drinking beer and playing billiards.

The next morning Adam and Aaron both woke at dawn to a dormitory that was as silent as a tomb.

“I think we’re the only ones awake,” Aaron said softly as he managed to light the lamp on his chest of drawers.

“I have a feeling these city boys aren’t used to getting up and feeding and watering stock every morning before breakfast,” Adam replied in an equally soft voice.

“Not to mention milking cows,” Aaron added with a grin.  “Well, at least “university minor” should be empty.”

The two young men quickly slipped on trousers, socks and Balmorals, but they decided since there was no one else up they would just go in their undershirts.  After they returned, they made their beds, shaved and finished dressing, but there was still no sound of anyone else stirring.

“I’m thinking this will be a good time to study, but what will we do now to while away the time?” Adam asked.

“I packed my chess set.  Do you play?” Aaron asked.

By the time they finished their game, which Aaron won, they could hear the other students beginning to wake up and make their way to the privies.  Aaron checked his watch and said, “Another half hour until breakfast.  I’m starting to feel a little nervous.”

“Yeah, me too,” Adam replied.  “Nervous and excited.  I’ve waited so long to begin attending college.  It’s hard to believe it’s really going to happen.”

Classes proved to be anticlimactic.  Adam found the lecture in English literature interesting and was eager to begin studying The Canterbury Tales .  However, Thomas’s brother had been correct in his estimate of their history professor and the geometry professor wasn’t much better.  Fortunately, Adam found the subjects more interesting than the lectures.  He was dismayed to learn that a good part of his time would be spent giving recitations.  It was one thing to talk about assignments with his tutor and another entirely to discuss them in front of the entire class.  Still, they all had to endure it.

“I’m hitting the books after dinner,” Aaron said as he and Adam and Thomas headed for the Commons after their history class ended.

“I’ve a couple of errands to run first,” Adam said, “so I guess I’ll be spending my evening studying.”

“Save a little time for a couple of beers,” Thomas said.  “And maybe we could play some cards.”
“
Sure,” Adam replied with a grin.  “Do you play poker?”

“No, but I’d be happy to learn.  Are you game, Aaron?”

“We’ll be playing for matchsticks.  That’s all I can afford,” Adam interjected hastily, not wanting to embarrass his friend.  “Even if I had the money, my pa would skin me alive if he knew I was gambling.”

“Sure, I’m game,” Aaron said and Adam saw the gratitude in his eyes.

“Say, Thomas, do you know where there’s a barbershop in Cambridge?  And a tailor?” Adam asked, changing the subject.

“You should visit a tailor in Boston, but I can tell you where my brothers got their hair cut here in Cambridge.”

“I’m going to visit my grandfather in Boston this weekend so I guess I could wait and visit the tailor then,” Adam replied.

“You have family here?” Thomas asked.

“My mother’s father, Abel Stoddard.  He owns a chandlery on Commercial Street and he lives on Unity Street.  He invited me to visit; we hadn’t seen each other since I was around two, but we’ve corresponded over the years.  I’m his only grandchild.  I think my being able to visit Grandfather was one of the reasons my father agreed I could come back east and attend Harvard.”
 

Saturday morning Adam and Aaron were awakened by deafening claps of thunder and the steady beating of raindrops on their windowpanes.  “Oh no,” Adam groaned, “I forgot all about an umbrella.”

“You can borrow mine and then buy one while you’re in Boston.”

“But what will you do?”

“I’ll stay in and study like a good boy,” Aaron replied with an impish smile.  “I’m not going to bother with an umbrella going to university minor.  I’m not made of sugar and I won’t melt.  Let’s just get our towels out before we go and then we can dry off when we get back,” and Adam grinned his assent.

A couple of hours later he was on his way to the ferry that would take him across the Charles to Boston.  Aaron’s umbrella kept him reasonably dry above the waist but the driving rain left his long legs soaked.  He knew he must present a bedraggled site as he walked the streets.  Even with the directions Thomas had given him, he still had to ask for assistance from passersby before he found Unity Street. Once he had found Unity, it wasn’t difficult to find his grandfather’s house.  Like most of the others on the street it was made of untreated cedar shingles, now gray with exposure to the salt air.  He used the knocker on the front door, and it was answered by a plump middle-aged woman with graying brown hair.

“May I help you?’ she asked politely.

“I’m Adam Cartwright—“ he began but the woman cut him off.

“You’re little Adam!  Why, the last time I saw you, you were only this high,” and she gestured to a level below his knees.  “Oh, you were the prettiest little boy with those enormous eyes and those pretty curls.” She suddenly became aware of Adam’s discomfort and bewilderment.  “Oh, I am going on, aren’t I?  I worked for the Captain when you and your father lived here before you went west.  I’m Polly Stone and I’m your grandfather’s housekeeper now.  Oh my goodness, I’m keeping you on the doorstep.  Come in, come in, and I’ll let your grandfather know you’re here.  Give me your umbrella.”

She suddenly seemed to notice how wet he was.  “You’ll catch your death in those wet clothes.  Your grandfather’s clothes won’t fit, but you could use his dressing gown.  Then I could put these by the fire to dry.  Come with me.”

Bemused, Adam followed her up the stairs and down a narrow hallway. She opened a door revealing a cozy room with flowered wallpaper and a large window with lace curtains.  A lovely four-poster bed of walnut covered by a brightly-colored quilt dominated the room.  On one side of the window was a large highboy while a small combination bookcase and writing desk was on the other side.  There was a large wardrobe opposite the highboy and an armchair by a bedside table on one side of the bed with another by the window, while in one corner was a lady’s vanity.

“This was the room you and your father shared when you were little, and the Captain thought you could stay here when you visit.”  She paused and then said hurriedly, “I’ll go get the dressing gown and then you can change out of those wet clothes.”  She suddenly noticed his valise.  “You’d better give me that because those clothes will most likely need to be dried as well.”  After a moment’s hesitation Adam handed her the valise and she bustled out the door.

Adam glanced around the room and walked over to the vanity and picked up the hairbrush and comb and the little bottle of cologne.  Could they be Mother’s?  He moved to the wardrobe and opened it, finding an old-fashioned gown of cream silk printed with sprays of pink roses and violets.

“Your mother’s wedding dress,” a gruff voice stated, and Adam turned to find his grandfather watching him.  “Your father and I couldn’t bear to give this one away.  This was her room when she was growing up and when she and your father married, it was their room.  Then Benjamin shared it with you.  Your trundle bed is still there.” His eyes raked over Adam’s wet trousers.  “Polly said she’s bringing you my dressing gown so you can get out of those wet clothes.  Don’t want you catching a cold.  Wasn’t sure if you’d come in this downpour.”

As if on cue, Polly appeared carrying a dressing gown of plum brocade and a pair of thick wool socks.  “Here you are.  Just bring me the wet things after you’ve changed,” and then she and the Captain left him alone.  He slipped off his Balmorals, socks, trousers and frock coat and then put on the dressing gown, which was several inches short of his ankles, and the warm socks.  As he fastened the dressing gown, he heard a discreet knock.

“If you’ve changed, I’ll give your things to Polly to dry and we can visit in here.  Don’t imagine you want to be sitting in the parlor in my dressing gown,” the Captain said through the door.

“No, I wouldn’t,” Adam replied opening the door and handing his grandfather his wet clothes and the Captain chuckled.

“I’ll be right back.  Like a cup of tea or coffee?”

“A cup of coffee would be wonderful,” Adam replied.

“I thought you’d think so.  I’ll bring it up.”

When he returned, he found Adam examining the books in the bookcase.  He looked totally absorbed so the Captain cleared his throat before saying, “Your mother loved to read.  I sent you two of her books—Pilgrim’s Progress and Robinson Crusoe.   Didn’t know if a boy would be interested in the others—thought they might be too girlish.”

“My tutor had me read Pride and Prejudice, but I’d like to read Persuasion and Emma, if that’s all right?”

“Of course.  Read any of her books you’d like.”

“It looks as though she enjoyed Jane Austen,” Adam commented.  “And here’s the collected poems of John Donne.  Marie liked Donne.  The first poem she ever had me read was Death, Be Not Proud.”

The Captain saw the sadness in his grandson’s eyes and said gently, “He must have been a good poet if they both enjoyed him.”  Then he said briskly, “Well, our coffee is getting cold, so we’d best drink it.”

The Captain sat in the armchair by the window while Adam perched on the bed, and as they drank the Captain asked, “Settling in at the college?”

Adam nodded and added, “I like my roommate.  His family lives on a farm in western Massachusetts.  Farming and ranching are somewhat similar so it gives us something in Commons.”

“Besides the fact you’re not Boston Brahmins,” the Captain interjected with a sour smile.

“That’s right,” Adam replied with a wry grin of his own.  “However, we have made friends with one.  You know, it would be just as fair I’m beginning to think to divide the students up into those who came to learn and those who came to carouse.”

“That reminds me.  I hope you planned on coming to church with me tomorrow,” the Captain interjected.  “I attend the church where your parents were married, the Park Street Church.  It’s also where you were christened,” and Adam cocked an eyebrow at that.  There’d been no minister on the wagon train to christen Hoss, and they’d had to travel to Sacramento to find a priest to baptize Joe and there had been difficulties since Pa was neither Catholic nor willing to convert.  Adam had never even attended church regularly until he’d stayed with the Townsends in San Francisco while he was preparing for college.  However, Pa had always made sure they respected the Sabbath and every Sunday they would read from the Bible, pray and sing one of the four hymns Pa knew by heart: Amazing Grace, O For a Thousand Tongues to Sing, Love Divine, All Loves Excelling, or Jesus Lover of My Soul.  Suddenly the name Park Street Church teased at his memory.

  “That’s where William Lloyd Garrison gave his first anti-slavery speech, isn’t it?” he asked and Captain Stoddard saw the intensity in his gaze.

“That’s right,” the Captain agreed.  “I was away at sea then, but your grandmother and mother were there, and they wrote me about it.  He really stirred them up, let me tell you.  But it’s a good cause and I was proud that they supported abolition.” Adam was elated to learn that his mother had supported Garrison, for abolition was a cause he ardently espoused.  It was all well and good to talk about States’ rights, but the rights of individuals—individuals who were treated as nothing more than chattel—had to take precedence.  The two were both silent for a few moments drinking their coffee, and then the Captain said, “I was going to take you to the chandlery but that will have to wait.”

“I was planning on visiting a tailor; I had to pack light and so Pa gave me money and told me to have some clothes made here.  Now I’ll have to put that off as well,” said Adam.  “Does it rain like this often?  I didn’t even think to pack an umbrella and I’m borrowing Aaron’s.”

“I’m sure I have a spare you can have,” the Captain replied.  “You’ll need one because it rains quite a bit here.  Now, the rain might slacken so you could still run your errand.  That’s one thing about the weather; it’s very changeable.  Of course a storm on land doesn’t compare with one on the sea.”

“I know,” Adam replied, hi lips quirking up in a hint of a smile.  “As we were approaching Cape Horn, we were caught in a blizzard of snow worse than I’d ever seen in the mountains back home and there were waves the sailors said were sixty feet high.  One of them told me they call them “Cape Horn snorters.”

“I’ve heard of them,” the Captain said with a nod.  “I never sailed the southern seas, always the North Atlantic packets sailing between the United States and Europe.  We’d sail regardless of weather.  Ice was our greatest danger.”  He stopped and said casually, “I forgot to ask before, but how did you like your first sea voyage?  Were you sick?”

“It was wonderful,” Adam replied and his grandfather heard the delight in his voice and saw the light in his hazel eyes.  “I can certainly understand why you spent so many years at sea.  And no, I was never seasick.  Got a bit queasy when we went around the Horn I have to admit.”  He smiled shyly at his grandfather.  “When I was little, Pa used to tell me stories about when he sailed on The Wanderer with you.  He said you were the best captain he ever served under.”

“He was the best first officer I ever had, but don’t tell him I said so.  Wouldn’t want to give him a swelled head.  Did he ever tell you about the time ...” and grandfather and grandson spent the next hour swapping stories about voyages.

After dinner the rain slacked off a little and Captain Stoddard insisted on ordering a hansom cab to take Adam to the tailor’s.  He returned in time for supper and after they ate, he and the Captain played chess.

Sunday morning the sky was a brilliant blue so Adam and the Captain walked to church, the Captain pointing out historical sites such as the Old North Church and Paul Revere’s house.  (Since the Old North Church was so close to the Captain’s house, Adam asked why they weren’t going there.  “Because we’re Congregationalists, boy, not Episcopalians,” his grandfather replied brusquely.  Adam decided he wouldn’t mention that he’d attended a Methodist church in San Francisco.  He didn’t understand why people made such a fuss about different denominations; they were all Christians, weren’t they?) They arrived at the church just a few minutes before the service was to begin so they quietly slipped into one of the back pews.  Adam found the sermon interesting and he enjoyed hearing the choir sing.  After the service, a number of people approached them, but the first to hurry over was a plump, pretty woman with just a few silver strands in her ash-brown hair.  Before the Captain could even open his mouth, the woman got out in a choked voice, “Adam Cartwright.  I would know you anywhere; you look so like your mother, God rest her soul.”

“Adam, this is your mother’s good friend, Margaret Baldwin,” the Captain said.  “When you were a little baby, she helped Mrs. Calahan care for you.”

“I was your wet nurse,” Mrs. Baldwin added and Adam’s cheeks flushed scarlet while the Captain hid a grin behind his hand.  “I want you to meet my children,” she said and motioned forward two boys a few years younger than he was.  There wasn’t time for more than an introduction for several other people were crowding around wanting to meet the young man who had traveled back to Boston from the western frontier.  Aside from Mrs. Baldwin, Adam paid particular notice to several lovely girls, particularly one with a heart-shaped face framed by silky, golden-brown curls named Julia Quincy.  He hoped another Sunday he would have an opportunity to say more than hello to her.  The family in the pew in front of them, the Flemings, after being introduced, came back a few minutes later with the choir director.

“We told Mr. Reed that you have the loveliest baritone voice and he should recruit you for the choir,” Mrs. Fleming stated.

“We can always use more baritones and basses,” Mr. Reed said with a smile.  “We practice on Sunday mornings before the service so it shouldn’t interfere with your studies.  I hope you’ll consider it, Mr. Cartwright.”

Adam looked sideways at his grandfather who said in his customary gruff manner, “I think you should, lad.  I don’t have much of an ear, but even I can tell you have a fine voice.”  So Adam told Mr. Reed he would be at next Sunday’s practice.  Just then he spied Aaron walking away from the church.  “Excuse me,” he said hurriedly and broke away from the crowd surrounding them.

“Aaron,” he called and Aaron stopped and turned his way.  “Come meet my grandfather,” he said when he’d caught up with his friend, and placed his hand on Aaron’s arm and moved him back toward Captain Stoddard.  “Grandfather, this is my roommate, Aaron Wharton.  Aaron, my grandfather, Captain Abel Stoddard.”

“Pleased to meet you, my boy,” the Captain said extending his hand and Aaron took it with a shy smile.  “Next Sunday, why not stop by my house and walk to church with me?  Adam here is joining the choir and so he’ll be leaving earlier.”

“Unless you would also like to join the choir?” Mr. Reed asked hopefully.

“You wouldn’t want me,” Aaron grinned broadly.  “I can’t carry a tune in a bucket,” and Mr. Reed shrugged ruefully.

“Aaron, I hope you’ll have dinner with Adam and me,” the Captain interjected quickly.

“I would love to, thanks so much, Captain Stoddard,” Aaron replied agreeably.

After dinner, Aaron excused himself but Adam said he would return to the college later.  When his friend had gone, Adam turned to his grandfather and asked, “Could you give me directions to where my mother is buried?”

The Captain started to say he would take him, but he saw something vulnerable in his grandson’s normally veiled eyes and only provided him with directions.  Adam walked the streets, oblivious to the lovely Indian summer, and soon stood before his mother’s granite headstone in the shade of a weeping willow.  He couldn’t stop the tears from filling his eyes and running down his cheeks as he read the dates of her birth and death.

“Oh, Mother, no one told me you weren’t even twenty when you died.  Pa says it’s not my fault, that sometimes it just happens that way, but it’s hard not to think that if it hadn’t been for me, you’d still be alive.  Some people would say I have been very unlucky to lose you and Inger and Marie, but I know I’ve been blessed to have the three of you as mothers.  It’s just that I have so many memories of Marie and a few happy ones of Inger, but I have none of you.  Pa has talked to me a little—I know it was you that chose my name—but even after all these years, it still hurts him to speak of you.  I hope that by reading the books you loved and talking with Grandfather that I’ll finally have a chance to know you.  Pa did tell me that you’d be pleased at my attending Harvard, and I plan on making you proud of me.”

“Pa,” Hoss said around a mouth full of eggs and bacon as the three Cartwrights gathered around the breakfast table, “when will we get a letter from Adam?  He’s been gone a long time.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, son,” Ben corrected automatically.  “I hope we receive one soon.  It takes longer for mail to arrive from Massachusetts than from San Francisco.  He should have arrived at Harvard by now.  I imagine he’s been busy but I’m certain he’ll write us as soon as he can.”  He paused and then said thoughtfully, “Tell you what, why don’t we each write Adam a letter?  I’m sure he misses us and he’d like to hear from us just as much as we want to hear from him.”

“Joe don’t know how to write,” Hoss remarked.

“Doesn’t know,” Ben corrected.  “But he can tell me what he wants to say to Adam and I will write it for him.”  He turned to his youngest.  “Would you like me to help you write a letter to Adam?”

“Yeah,” Joe said with a big grin.

“All right.  Tonight after supper, we’ll write our letters to Adam.”

They all gathered around the kitchen table with paper and ink.  Ben held Joe on his lap and said quietly, “Tell me what you want to say to Adam.”

“Tell him to come home,” Joe said firmly.

“Joe, he won’t be coming home for some time,” Ben said gently.  “Why don’t you tell him about Susan the cat?”

“Okay,” Joe answered with a grin.  “Tell Adam we gots a cat to catch the mice, an’ her name is Susan, an’ she’s black with white feet like socks.  Her tongue tickles when she licks me.  I like her,” he added watching his pa’s hand make squiggly marks on the paper.

“I was gonna write ‘bout Susan,” Hoss complained.

“You still can,” Ben replied.  “Tell him how I paid fifty cents for her because we needed a cat so badly.  And you can tell him how Susan shares the mice she catches with us.”  Hoss grinned and began writing.  Ben turned back to Joe.  “Do you want to say anything else?”  Joe nodded and Ben saw his huge green eyes begin to swim with tears while his lower lip and chin began to quiver.

“I miss him.  I want him to come home now.”

“I know you do,” Ben replied softly kissing his cheek, “and Adam misses you, too.  Now let’s get you ready for bed and then Pa will tell you a bedtime story.  Okay?” and Joe nodded but he still looked so mournful it broke Ben’s heart.  If only there had been a way to allow Adam to fulfill his dream without hurting Joe and Hoss...and me.

“Pa,” Joe said as Ben tucked him into bed, “tell me a story about Adam.  About Adam when he was little like me.”

“All right,” Ben agreed, understanding his youngest son’s need to feel close to his older brother.  He sat on the edge of the bed and Joe reached for his hand linking their fingers.  “When Adam was about your age, he and Hoss’s mama, Inger, and I were traveling west in a covered wagon from Illinois to St. Joseph, Missouri.”

“What about Hoss?” Joe interrupted.

“Hoss wasn’t born yet,” and Joe frowned in concentration, trying to imagine a world without Hoss.  “Most of the time,” Ben continued, “Adam rode in the wagon with Inger, but sometimes he got tired of sitting and wanted to get down and walk.  We told him he mustn’t wander off but one day he saw some raspberries growing along the side of the road.”

“Adam likes raspberries,” Joe stated emphatically.

“Yes, he does, and when he saw them he forgot all about not wandering off.  He went from bush to bush and ate so many raspberries that his stomach began to hurt and he looked around and realized he couldn’t see the wagon any more.”

“I bet he was scared,” Joe said, his own eyes big and round.

“Yes, he was,” Ben replied, “but he wasn’t any more scared than Inger and I were when we stopped to rest our oxen and realized Adam was nowhere in sight.”

“What did you do?” Joe demanded.

“We called and we called for him, but got no answer so we decided to turn around and go back and look for him.  We kept calling for him until we were both hoarse, but there was no sign of him.  We were so scared and so worried.  Inger was in tears, and so was I,” and for a moment he relived the utter terror he had experienced when he feared his young son would die of exposure or dehydration before he could be found.

“Really, Pa?” Joe asked.  “You was cryin’?”

“Yes, I was, Joe.  That’s how scared I was that something had happened to my little boy.”  He hid a small smile at the skepticism on Joe’s face on hearing his oldest brother referred to as his father’s little boy.  “But then we saw someone riding up on a horse.  As soon as he got close enough the rider shouted, ‘Did you folks lose a little boy?’”

“’Yes!’ I shouted back.  ‘Is he all right?’”

“’He’s pretty scared and he’s got a bellyache from eatin’ too many berries,’ the boy riding the horse told us, ‘but we took him to our farmhouse and my pa sent me to see if I could find his folks.  Come on, I’ll show you the way.’  When we got to the farm, Inger jumped down from the wagon and I leaped off my horse and we ran inside.  The farmer’s wife had seen us coming and opened the front door for us.  ‘He’s all right,’ she told us.  ‘I had him lie down in our bedroom and he’s cried himself to sleep.’  We hurried into the bedroom and there he was.  His eyes and his nose were red and swollen from crying and he was all curled up in a ball.  He woke up when we came in and started crying again holding out his arms, sobbing, ‘Papa.  Mama.’ Inger sat on the bed and took him in her arms and hugged him and kissed him.”

“Did you have a necessary talk with him?” Joe asked curiously.

“I would have except he had been so frightened that I really thought he’d learned his lesson.  Besides, with Inger hugging and kissing him, it was pretty hard for me to spank him.  I just waited my turn and then I hugged him and kissed him.  He had to stay in the wagon from then on though unless Inger or I walked with him.”

“I’m glad you found him,” Joe said in a sleepy voice, his eyelids drooping.

“So am I,” Ben said softly and leaned over and kissed Joe’s honey-blond curls that were so like Marie’s, thankful again that his oldest and youngest sons resembled their mothers so strongly.

When Ben returned, Hoss put his pen down and wriggled his fingers.  “Did you finish your letter?” Ben asked as he sat back down at the table.

“Yup,” Hoss answered.  “I told him about Susan and about Lucy’s new piglets and about Beauty gonna have a foal and Hop Sing’s new rooster.”

“That sounds like a wonderful letter,” Ben said smiling at him and adding, “I know Adam will enjoy it.”

Hoss beamed at his father’s praise and decided he’d best finish those pesky arithmetic problems his teacher had assigned him.  I shore wish Adam was here to help me with these problems, he thought sadly.
 

Late in the afternoon a few days later while Hop Sing was preparing supper, Hoss was doing his evening chores and Joe played with the Noah’s Ark he’d inherited from Adam and Hoss, Ben returned from a visit to Mormon Station for supplies, calling, “There’s a letter from Adam!”

“A letter from Adam!  Yahoo!” Hoss shouted running out of the barn.  “What’s he say?”

“I haven’t read it. I thought we’d wait and read it after supper,” Ben replied.
Hoss opened his mouth to argue, but caught himself.  “Shore hope we eat fast.”  He looked longingly at the letter in his pa’s hand.

By unspoken agreement, they did all eat as quickly as possible and Ben insisted Hop Sing join them as he read Adam’s letter aloud.  Ben sat on the Windsor settee he and Adam had made for the cabin and Joe crawled on his lap, while Hoss sat Indian-style on the floor facing his father and Hop Sing stood behind Ben.  Ben opened the letter carefully and began to read in his mellifluous bass.
 
 

— 1854

Dear Family,

I have been here at Harvard for almost a week now and I realized I needed to write and let you know how things are going with me.  My roommate is a young man named Aaron Wharton from western Massachusetts.  He has never been to Cambridge or Boston before, so I guess you could say we are both like fish out of water, but we are managing.  I know you would all like Aaron.  He is serious, but he has a great sense of the ridiculous.  I am not certain how Hop Sing would feel about him because he doesn’t have much of an appetite and he is skinny as a rail just like Ross.   (Only Hoss could see the cook’s lips twitch in a smile at those words.)

I thought that I would describe my typical day.  Aaron and I are both up with the sun.  First thing, we put on some clothes and visit  “university minor,’ which is what everyone calls the privies. (Ben had to smother a chuckle before continuing but Hoss guffawed loudly and even Joe giggled.) ... Then we go to the Commons for breakfast.  I must tell you that the food they serve in the Commons is nowhere near as good as Hop Sing’s.  (In this instance I guess Aaron is lucky that he doesn’t care much about food; he just eats whatever is put before him.)  Another freshman, Thomas Collingsworth, whose father, grandfather, and great-grandfather all attended Harvard, told us that in the past there have actually been riots about the quality of the food served at the Commons.  I don’t know what it was like back then, but I don’t think the food is that horrible.

After breakfast I attend recitations and lectures and then it is time for dinner at the Commons.  Most of the afternoon I study although I have managed to do a little exploring in Cambridge, sometimes with Aaron and sometimes on my own.  One of the first things I did was to visit a barber and a tailor.  I can’t afford the sartorial splendor of some students, but in some ways, I am glad of that.  Aaron’s family is not wealthy and I wouldn’t want to lord it over him.  We are becoming good friends.  We are both in the Lawrence Scientific School so we are taking some of the same classes.  He’s been telling me about growing up on a small farm with his parents and siblings and I’ve been telling him about life on a ranch.

Hoss interrupted.  “What’s siblings?”

“Brothers and sisters,” Ben replied and then he continued reading.
 

...This term I attend lectures and recitations in analytic geometry, Greek, English Literature, and history.  (Freshmen are expected to take an ancient language and I have had enough of Latin, and between Hebrew and Greek, I chose Greek.) Even though the instructor is a dreadful bore, I am still enjoying analytic geometry.  The history lectures are the worst.  The instructor speaks in an appalling monotone, which makes it difficult to remain awake and the more so because at intervals he will stop speaking and close his eyes as if in prayer.  Aaron and I have heard he is notorious for boring his students to death.

 I dread the recitations.  We have to stand before the instructor and the other students and talk about assigned passages of the text.  (In a language class, you translate the assigned passages.)  The instructor and the other students ask you questions.  I just hate having to stand up in front of everyone to talk.  My palms always sweat and I feel like I am going to be sick.  Aaron hates them, too.  In fact, I haven’t met anyone who likes recitations.  Thomas Collingsworth said that his father told him that in his day, all the instruction was done by recitation.  All I can say is, “Thank God for progress!”

Aaron and I have both joined the Speakers Club.  Many freshmen join and it is proving to be a good way to make friends.  (When we are upperclassmen we hope to be invited to join the Hasty Pudding.)  Some of the wealthy students are very snobbish, but not all.  Thomas comes from a very wealthy old family but he is friendly to everyone.  Like Aaron and me, he is interested in learning, which I was surprised to discover is not true of all the students.  He is studying the classics and the only class all three of us have together is history.  (He and I are both taking Greek though.)

I miss all of you very much, but mostly I am enjoying myself.  Grandfather invited me to visit him this weekend.  (I see I forgot to mention that he was there to meet me when the Surprise docked. We talked a little on the way to Cambridge, but we’ll have more opportunities to visit this weekend.)

Affectionately yours,
Adam

“I just don’t understand how Adam would rather be in Boston studyin’ than home with us,” Hoss said sadly and Joseph added belligerently, “Me neither.”

“Boys, your brother has a thirst for learning that none of us has,” Ben replied quietly.  He hugged Joe and reached over to squeeze Hoss’s shoulder.  “It’s the way Adam has always been since he was a little boy and if we love him, then we just have to accept it.”

“I want him to come home,” stated Joe in an angry tone that ended in a sob.

“We all do, Joseph, but we’re just going to have to be patient until he earns his degree,” Ben said quietly, kissing Joe on the cheek and ruffling his curls.  “Now that we have a letter from Adam, why don’t we each write him one in reply?  Okay?”

Aaron walked into the room to find Adam sitting at his desk bent over a book.  When Adam looked up, Aaron could see his eyes were suspiciously bright.  “Still no letter from home?” he asked quietly.

“No,” Adam replied, hiding his face behind his book.  He took a deep breath and said slowly, “I told you it’s not that surprising.  It takes forever for a letter to get from Western Utah to Massachusetts.  And sometimes they get lost.”  He glanced quickly at his friend and said softly, “I’m all right, Aaron.”

“I know you are,” Aaron protested, just a touch too firmly.  “I also know you’ve spent enough time on geometry.  How about we go drink some beer and play a couple of games of billiards?  Be a different way to study geometry.”

“Sure,” Adam replied with a smile, but Aaron saw it didn’t reach his eyes.

Adam was in better spirits when they returned a few hours later.  As soon as they entered Massachusetts Hall, a voice called out, “Cartwright!  Wait.”  Adam and Aaron halted and a classmate ran over to them.  “I have a gift for you, Cartwright.  An elderly gentleman dropped this off for you.  Said to tell you it was mailed to his address,” and he handed Adam a large bulky envelope addressed in his father’s handwriting.

“I guess patience really is a virtue,” Aaron said, grinning hugely.  “I’ll go on over to the Commons and I’ll see if I can smuggle some food back to you.  Happy reading,” and he slapped Adam on the back.

“Thanks, Aaron,” Adam replied, and Aaron saw the joy in his friend’s eyes before he turned and ran up the stairs to the privacy of their suite.

When Aaron returned, he found Adam sitting at his desk writing with a huge grin on his face.  “So I take it everything is all right back on the Ponderosa?”

“Sure is.  Pa bought a kitten for 50 cents to cut down on the mice,” Adam said and Aaron whistled.  “No, she’s worth the money, believe me.  Cats are scarce on the frontier and the mice get in the grain for the horses and they invade the kitchen as well.  Joe drew me a picture of Susan.  See,” and he held up a pencil drawing.

Aaron admired the drawing and then said, “So what other news did you get?”

“Pa said he sold 50 head of beef at Placerville at $15 a head.  They started a school in Mottsville and Hoss is attending.  He doesn’t like it at all; says he wishes I were back home so I could help him with his schoolwork.”

“I take it Hoss is not a scholar.”

“No, not at all.  He’s not stupid; in fact, he’s smarter than I am about some things.  They just don’t happen to be academic,” Adam said a little defensively.  “He’s got a way with animals that makes him invaluable on a ranch.”

“He’d be welcome on a farm, too,” Aaron said quietly and Adam relaxed and smiled at his roommate.

“He can put himself in another person’s shoes and see things from his point of view; he’s very empathetic.”  Adam then added with a huge grin, “He’s big and he’s strong.  He’s only 12 but he’s already 5’5” and he has a stocky, powerful build.  Last time we got in a fight was a few of weeks before I left to come here.  I ended up with a black eye, a split lip and various bruises and, as the pièce de résistance , he knocked me out cold with a roundhouse punch.  That kinda scared him because he didn’t know how strong he really is.  Heck, I didn’t know either or I wouldn’t have fought with him, that’s for sure.”

“Almost forgot,” Aaron interjected.  “I did manage to smuggle some food for your supper.  Crab cakes”

“Thanks, Aaron.  I’ll finish this letter to Hoss, and then I’ll eat,” Adam replied smiling warmly at his friend.

“Hoss, how many times do I have to tell you not to talk when you have food in your mouth,” Ben said sternly.  Hoss looked so crestfallen that he relented and said with a smile, “Why don’t you go see who it is?”

“Me, too!” Joe said jumping up and running to the door before his father could even open his mouth.

“Hey, Doc,” Hoss said smiling his gap-tooth grin at Dr. Paul Martin as he drove his buggy into the yard.  “Ain’t no one sick here.”

“Hello to you too, Hoss,” Dr. Martin said with a friendly smile as he stepped out of the buggy.  “Hello Joe,” and he tousled the little boy’s honey-blond curls.  “Ben,” he said as the oldest Cartwright stepped onto the front porch,  “I knew I’d be headed out this way so I offered to deliver your mail.”  He paused to heighten the suspense before adding, “It’s from Cambridge.”

“From Adam?” Joe asked excitedly.

“That’s right.  I have a letter for Master Eric Cartwright, one for Master Joseph Cartwright and one for Mr. Ben Cartwright,” Dr. Martin answered with a beaming smile.

“Can you stay for supper, Paul?” Ben asked.  “We’ll read Adam’s letters aloud.”

“Thanks.  I’d love to,” Paul replied.  “Be good to hear how Adam is getting along.”

“Hoss, put up Dr. Martin’s horse, please.  Then come finish your dinner.”

After they finished eating, they all gathered in the front room that Marie had called her parlor.  While the others looked at him expectantly Ben opened his letter and began to read.
 

 
— 1854

Dear Pa,

First, I got your letter and Hoss’s and Joe’s.  I enjoyed hearing about Susan and getting Joe’s picture of her; I hope she is able to cut a swath through the Ponderosa’s rodent population so you will get a good return for your fifty cents.  Sounds like you already have from what Hoss wrote.

“What’s he mean by cut a swath through the rodent population?” Hoss interrupted.

“He means he hopes Susan will kill lots of mice and rats,” Ben replied.  “Now hush and let me continue.”

“Susan ain’t big enough to tackle no rats,” Hoss added and then his voice trailed off as he saw his father glaring at him.
 

…Tell Hoss not to feed her too many scraps.  She’ll hunt better if she’s a little hungry.

It was good to hear you got such a great price for the cattle, Pa.  I know you’ll find it hard to believe, but I missed the drive.  It’s the wide-open spaces and the vast sky full of stars that I miss, not those ornery steers.  There are many advantages to living in a city, but they certainly are crowded and dirty and loud.  Sometimes it’s hard to think in the hubbub.  Aaron feels the same way, but even he says a cowboy like me probably would find his family’s farm too confining, and I have a feeling that he’s right.

I visit Grandfather every weekend.  He is rather frail now (although he’ll never admit it) but I suppose that is to be expected.  We spend much of our time talking about my mother.  I do understand that it is difficult for you to talk about her, Pa, but after listening to Grandfather, I really feel I am beginning to know her.

Ben had to break off then and blink back the tears that threatened.  “Pa,” Joe said fearfully.  “It’s all right, Joe,” Ben said in an unsteady voice.  “I’m just feeling sad about Adam’s mama and Adam never having a chance to know her.”

“Like I never knew mine,” Hoss said sadly and Ben gave his shoulder an affectionate squeeze.  Joe didn’t completely understand about his brothers having different mothers than his, so he sat quietly looking at Ben with anxious eyes.  After a few moments Ben collected himself and continued reading.
 

…On the weekends, I stay with Grandfather Saturday nights.  He has me sleep in Mother’s old room.  He said when I was a baby you and I slept there.  He even showed me the trundle bed where I used to sleep.  I feel very close to Mother there.  On Sundays, I go to church with Grandfather and I’ve joined the choir.  The first time I attended church I felt like the Prodigal Son, or maybe the Lost Sheep would be a better analogy.  I met some of Grandfather’s old friends and friends of Mother’s and of yours.  I am afraid I can’t remember the names of everyone who asked to be remembered to you, but I do remember Mrs. Baldwin.  (Grandfather told me that she had been my mother’s dearest friend and she informed me that she had been my wet nurse.  I rather wish she hadn’t mentioned that!)

Neither Ben nor Paul could hide a grin at those words but Joe asked, “What’s a wet nurse?” wrinkling his nose in puzzlement.

“Would you like to answer that, Paul?” Ben queried with a teasing gleam in his eyes.

Paul raised his eyebrows but then turned to Joe, who looked at him expectantly.  “Well, Joe, you know how baby animals drink their mother’s milk when they are very small?”

“Sure.  Everyone knows that,” Joe replied.

“Well, human babies are the same.  But sometimes, the mother dies and so another woman who is nursing her own baby will volunteer to nurse the other baby as well.  Your father has told me that Adam’s mother died when he was born so he needed to find a woman who would nurse him, and Mrs. Baldwin was that woman.”

“We fed Lucy’s extra piglets with a bottle,” Joe said frowning.

“And if your father couldn’t have found a wet nurse for Adam, that’s what he would have done.  But it is better for the baby to have human milk rather than cow’s milk.”

Joe looked unconvinced but Ben forestalled any questions by saying, “Let’s get back to Adam’s letter, all right?”
 

...I met her two sons; one is a couple of years younger than I am and the other looks to be about Hoss’s age.  Grandfather said she had a daughter who was my first playmate.  I asked if I could meet her but he told me she died of diphtheria when she was very young.  Told me I had it as well.  I can remember measles and the mumps, but I guess I was too young to remember diphtheria.

Some of your old friends have daughters about my age who are very pretty, and I am hoping to further an acquaintance with one of them.  Her name is Julia Quincy.  I haven’t worked up the courage yet to do more than speak to her after the church service, but I don’t have much time for courting anyway.  Usually after church I visit Mother’s grave.  It is so peaceful there and brings to mind Gray’s lines: “Beneath those rugged elms, that yew tree’s shade/Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap,/Each in his narrow cell forever laid ...”

Aaron and I are both learning to adjust to college life and we have so much work to do that we really haven’t had time to explore much of Cambridge or Boston.  Many of the other students are from very wealthy old families and they have little use for a pair of country boys like us.  There is a jingle I heard recently.  You may have already heard it, and it pretty much sums up many of my classmates:

        I come from the city of Boston,
        The home of the bean and the cod,
        Where the Cabots speak only to Lowells,
        And the Lowells speak only to God.

Of course, not everyone is so arrogant; Thomas Collingsworth, whom I mentioned in my last letter, has been very friendly to us.  The three of us are going to supper in Boston this Friday evening.  Since Thomas is a native Bostonian, we are letting him choose the restaurant.  I hope to hear from all of you soon.

Affectionately yours,
Adam

“Well, Hoss, how about yours?” Ben asked as he carefully folded the letter.

“No, read mine next, Pa!” Joe shouted.

“There is no need to shout, Joseph,” Ben said firmly.  “All right with you, Hoss?” he inquired and Hoss nodded.  He was torn because he wanted to keep Adam’s letter private, so it would be something just between the two of them, but he knew his family was curious about what Adam had written him.  After all, they were sharing their letters.
 
 

— 1854

Dear Joe,

Thanks for the picture of Susan, Little Buddy.  I showed it to Aaron and we both thought that it was wonderful.  He tells me that they have lots of cats living on their farm to get rid of mice, but none of their cats is as amazing as Susan.

Yes, Little Buddy, I do miss you an awful lot, but I am enjoying school and making new friends here and spending time with my grandfather.  Autumn is really beautiful in New England.  The trees turn scarlet, orange, gold, and purple and it’s great fun to walk through the piles of fallen leaves and listen to the crackling and crunching noise they make.  Sometimes I go to the harbor in Boston and watch the tall clipper ships and the seagulls soaring overhead and smell the sea air.  I’ve been to Bunker Hill and imagined what it must have been like to see the colonists and the redcoats fighting there.  I’ve also seen the Old North Church and Paul Revere’s home and the site of the Boston Massacre.  It’s just so exciting to actually see where so many of the events in our history took place. Maybe someday when you are grownup, you and I and Hoss can come to Boston and I can show you all those wonderful places.

Affectionately yours,
Adam

“It does sound like Adam is having a wonderful time,” Paul said with a smile.  “I have to admit I envy him the libraries and booksellers he can visit.”

“I still wish he’d come home.  It’s more fun here than in old Boston,” Joe said with a scowl.  “I guess it’s a good thing he can visit his grandfather,” he added dejectedly.  He turned to look at Ben quizzically.  “How come Adam has a grandfather and Hoss and I don’t?”

“You and Hoss have grandfathers,” Ben replied placing his arm around Joe’s shoulders.  “You, Hoss and Adam have a Grandfather Cartwright, my father, but he died when I was about Hoss’s age.  Your mother’s father and Hoss’s mother’s father are also dead.  Only Adam’s mother’s father is still living.  He’s an old man so I am glad he has this chance to spend time with Adam and they can get to know each other.”  He turned to Hoss then with a smile.  “Ready to read your letter, son?”

“Okay, Pa,” Hoss replied and carefully opened his letter and unfolded it.
 
 

— 1854

Dear Hoss,

That Lucy is really amazing!  I told Aaron about the size of her litter and he was astounded.  He said none of their sows had ever had more than eight piglets in a litter.  I knew I could count on you to take good care of Beauty, Little Brother.  You tell Pa I’d be pleased to give you her foal to raise.  With that quarter horse of Mr. Marquette’s as the sire, I think there’s a good chance the foal could be a good mount for you.  I can hardly believe you’ve grown an inch just in the time I’ve been gone.  Guess I won’t be able to call you “Little Brother” much longer.

Last weekend was the annual football contest between the freshman and sophomore classes.  The sophomores won, but we gave a good account of ourselves.  I have a feeling Pa, Grandfather, and Dr. Martin wouldn’t have approved of my participation since the game can be really brutal.

(Hoss glanced nervously at Ben and saw he was frowning, but plunged ahead.  He would have to let Adam know that he would be reading his letters aloud and to send anything really private on a separate sheet.)
 

...The object of the game is to move the ball across a goal line.  You can do it by kicking, running or throwing it.  The opposing team will try to tackle you so you can’t score a goal.  I never had possession of the ball so I only got a few bruises.  Aaron didn’t ever have the ball either but he got a black eye along with bruises.  One of the boys who was tackled got two broken ribs and others had broken collarbones, broken arms and teeth were knocked out.  One sophomore was knocked unconscious but he’s all right now.  If I had your build, maybe I would have done better.

“Probably would have ended up in a hospital,” Ben muttered angrily.

“It’s part of college life, Ben,” Paul said soothingly.  “That football match has been going on for years; the college keeps threatening to stop it, but they haven’t done it yet.”

Ben saw Hoss was looking at him nervously and said, “Go ahead, Hoss.”
 

...Wish I could be there to help you with your arithmetic, but I know Pa will help if you ask.  At least your teacher sounds nice and I hope you’ll make friends at the school.  I am so glad I was given Aaron as a roommate because we are really becoming good friends.  To some people here a cowboy like me is sort of a freak; I think they expect me to be totally uncivilized.  It makes me angry but sometimes it works to my advantage.  I can tell some of the girls I meet find me a little dangerous.  Unfortunately, I think their parents view me the same way and they don’t want their daughters to have anything to do with me.  Oh well, as I wrote Pa, I don’t have any time for courting now anyway.

Give Beauty an apple for me and take good care of her.  Let me know if she has a filly or a colt.

Affectionately yours,
Adam

“It sounds as though Adam is finding libraries and booksellers are not the only advantages Boston has over Mormon Station,” Paul commented as Ben glared at him.  Paul chuckled and then said cheerfully, “Don’t glower, old friend.  Adam is not one to allow his heart to rule his head.  You know that.”

“Don’t know why he wants to write about girls,” Joe complained.  “What did he mean they think he’s dangerous?  Adam ain’t dangerous,” he snorted.

“I think he means he’s different from the young men they know and women are always intrigued by someone who’s different,” Paul answered with a teasing smile at Ben.

“He’s not gonna marry a girl there, is he, Pa?” Hoss asked apprehensively.

“I certainly hope not,” Ben stated emphatically.  “He is only eighteen years old; that’s much too young to be thinking of marriage.  Besides, he wrote us he doesn’t even have time to court now, so I don’t think we need to worry about him getting married.”
 

One rainy afternoon in late September, Adam and Aaron were in their study while the rain beat against the windowpanes and occasionally a flash of lightening would light up the sky followed almost immediately by an enormous clap of thunder.  Aaron slammed his geometry textbook shut and threw his pencil down in disgust.  Adam looked over raising one eyebrow.  “Euclid should have been hanged before he could invent geometry,” Aaron answered the unspoken question, scowling at the textbook.

“What’s the problem?  I finished our assignment so maybe I can help,” Adam said getting up from his desk to stand behind Aaron so he could see what he was working on.  He frowned as he looked intently at Aaron’s work and then his face lightened.  “Look, this is where you went wrong,” he said pointing.  “You just miscalculated.  If you correct that error, then you’ll have the correct solution.”

Aaron looked carefully where Adam was pointing, frowning at the problem.  Then he broke into a broad grin.  “I see.  Thanks, Adam.”  He looked sideways at his friend before saying, “You really like geometry, don’t you?”

Adam nodded.  “I’ve always liked mathematics.  No one else in my family does though.”

“Sounds like the rest of your family is normal,” Aaron said with a grin and Adam playfully punched him in the arm before going back to his own desk.  Aaron was finishing his geometry when he heard Adam whistle and looked up inquiringly.

“You won’t believe this, Aaron,” Adam said shaking his head.  “If I used this kind of language my pa would have washed my mouth out with lye soap.”

“What’s it say?” Aaron asked curiously.

“Here, see for yourself,” Adam said handing Aaron the book.

“I thought you were studying English Literature,” Aaron said in a puzzled tone.

“I am.  The Canterbury Tales was written in Middle English.  Here, this is the part I was talking about,” and he got up and put his finger on the passage.

“Oh my word!” Aaron said, his eyes opened wide and a faint blush on his cheeks.  “I always thought of people in medieval times as being more refined.  The code of chivalry—you know.”

“The Knight’s Tale is like that, but not this one.  This one makes you realize people haven’t really changed that much over the centuries.  It may be ribald, but it’s funny.”  He smirked a little but then quickly sobered up.  “I hope I’m not called on for a recitation on The Miller’s Tale,” he said swallowing nervously.

The next day as the students filed in and took their seats, Adam noticed nearly everyone looked nervous and he understood that they all dreaded being called on to discuss this assignment.  The professor entered and Adam dropped his eyes and nervously rubbed the back of his head and smoothed down his hair.  The professor looked around the room and made his selection.

“Mr. Cartwright, please favor us with your observations on The Miller’s Tale,” the professor said briskly.

Adam rose slowly to his feet and faced the professor.  “The Miller’s Tale is a fabliau; however, the four characters in it are unique individuals and not merely caricatures as is usually the case.  The plot is extremely convoluted, and part of the fabliau’s joke lies in the plot’s absurdity.  I think The Miller’s Tale is a parody of The Knight’s Tale .  Both tell of two young men who are rivals for the hand of a woman.  As we discussed in our last class, the woman in The Knight’s Tale is passive—willing to be the prize of whichever young man wins the fight.  The woman in The Miller’s Tale is not at a shy virgin but the young wife of an old man and she is not at all passive; she chooses which young man will be her lover.  The language of The Knight’s Tale is very refined while the language in The Miller’s Tale is,” and Adam stuttered slightly, “v-very earthy.”  He hurried on, eager to finish.  “I think that the juxtaposition of these two tales indicates that Chaucer wanted to show that underneath the refined and flowery language, the behavior of the two aristocrats is not really that different from the bawdy actions of the student and the parish clerk.”

“Interesting thesis, Mr. Cartwright.  Does anyone else have anything to contribute?” the professor stated as Adam let himself relax.

“I think Mr. Cartwright is taking the tale too seriously.  After all, Chaucer himself said it was a joke,” one of the snobbish students stated condescendingly

“I found the language vulgar and offensive.  I was particularly offended by Chaucer’s treating adultery as a joke and making a fool of the wronged husband,” added another piously.

Adam became so involved in defending his analysis that he forgot to be nervous and the class passed quickly.  This recitation had gone much better than the one in his Greek class.  In fact, he’d actually enjoyed it.
 

A few afternoons later Thomas came by Adam and Aaron’s suite asking if they’d care to go for a walk.  “Today is so glorious and I’m tired of study.  Some exercise would do us all good.”

“Sounds like a fine idea to me,” Aaron said enthusiastically, throwing down his pen and jumping up.  “I’ve finished my geometry and the rest of my lessons won’t take that long.  Come on, Adam,”

“I can’t,” Adam replied brusquely.  “I’ve got to finish this passage from The Odyssey.”

“I’ll help when we get back,” Thomas said winningly.

“I’ll manage,” Adam snapped.

“There’s no need to bite my head off,” Thomas said in an affronted tone and Adam realized he’d been rude.

“Sorry, Thomas,” he said sincerely and Thomas smiled slightly.  “I guess I could use some help,” he admitted reluctantly.

“After our walk.  You’ll think more clearly after you’ve gotten out of this stuffy room.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Adam replied with a wry grin as he closed his book, straightened his papers and put them neatly in a drawer before standing.

“You know, Adam, you need to work on accepting assistance gracefully,” Thomas said teasingly as they strolled through the Yard toward Old Cambridge.

“He may have grown up out west, but he’s still got that hard-headed Yankee stubbornness,” Aaron laughed.

“Uh-yup,” Thomas agreed.  “You can take a Yankee out of New England, but he’s still a Yankee.”

“Oh, shut up,” Adam laughed as they sauntered down Cambridge Street.
 
 
 

The trees lost their leaves and only their stark, bare branches were raised to the sky; the temperature dropped and there was a damp chill perpetually in the air while the sky seemed always to be gray and overcast.  Often the icy wind blowing off the Atlantic seemed to penetrate every layer of Adam’s clothing to his very bones.  He had never minded winter in the Sierras, but the cold damp of a New England winter he found difficult to take.

The last Saturday of October was unseasonably cold so he put on his overcoat, jammed his broad-brimmed felt hat on tightly and headed for the ferry.  He realized he must find Christmas gifts for the family and send them on their way if they were to reach the Ponderosa by Christmas.  First, he headed down Boylston Street.  He found a tobacconist shop where he bought some fine Virginia tobacco for his father.  He purchased a superbly crafted new bridle for Beauty’s foal as a gift for Hoss.  He couldn’t find anything suitable for Joe or Hop Sing so he headed over to Newbury Street where he found a toy store and wandered around happily trying to decide which toy his little brother would enjoy the most.  He finally settled on a set of toy soldiers, some of which wore the redcoat of British army during the Revolution while the remainder wore the either the blue of the Continental army or were dressed as militiamen.   The set even included a couple of artillery pieces and George Washington on a white stallion.  By the time he’d completed the purchase, it was noon and so he headed over to his grandfather’s for dinner and hoped inspiration would strike him.  On the way he passed The Old Corner Bookstore at the corner of School and Washington.  As he was browsing, he discovered the latest novel by Herman Melville.  His father had enjoyed Redburn and so Adam thought he would like this new work, Moby Dick, and bought a copy to send with the tobacco.  It occurred to him that his grandfather might also enjoy Melville so he bought another copy for him.  With great difficulty he resisted buying a copy of Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter for himself but couldn’t resist buying the latest of James Russell Lowell’s satirical Biglow Papers .

As he and Captain Stoddard devoured large bowls of clam chowder, he discussed his purchases and his difficulty finding a gift for Hop Sing.

“I don’t think I can be much help, lad,” the Captain said, taking a swig of cider.  “No idea what a Chinaman would like as a gift.”

“Excuse me,” Biddy, the Captain’s maid-of-all-work, said nervously as she cleared away their bowls.

“Yes, girl?” the Captain growled.

“I was j-just thinking,” Biddy stammered.  “This Chinaman is your cook, isn’t he?”

“That’s right,” Adam agreed smiling at the red-faced young woman.

“Well, I was thinking maybe you could find some spices here that would be hard to get at your ranch.  I’ll bet he’d like those.”

“He would,” Adam replied, dimpling.  “That’s a wonderful idea, Biddy.  If it’s all right with you, Grandfather, I’ll go shopping again right after dinner.  Then I’ll need to get all the gifts ready to mail.”

“I’ll take care of mailing them for you,” the Captain said with a smile.  “I’m certain they’ll reach your family in time for Christmas.”
 

Over the past months a routine had developed where Aaron would stop by Captain Stoddard’s home and walk with him to church and then have dinner at the Stoddard home with the Captain and Adam.  Polly and Biddy considered it a challenge to put some meat on the bones of two young men they considered much too skinny and the Captain enjoyed the company of both young men.  (He also noticed that Adam was less reserved in his friend’s company.)

The first Sunday in November, as the Captain, Adam and Aaron gathered around the dining table for Sunday dinner, the Captain announced, “Adam’s birthday is coming up on the fourteenth.  I’d like to have a birthday supper for him.  You’re invited of course, Aaron, and I thought, Adam, maybe you’d like to invite a few others—your friend, Thomas, for example.”

“You don’t have to, Grandfather,” Adam replied quietly and Aaron looked at him in surprise.

“I want to celebrate the birth of my only grandchild,” the Captain said in an equally quiet voice.  “Moreover, I know it’s what your mother would want.  Believe me, Adam.  She rejoiced at your birth,” and he paused, gazing unwaveringly into Adam’s veiled eyes, “even knowing what it had cost her.”

Aaron remained silent, keeping his eyes focused on his plate, but he didn’t have any difficulty deducing the cause of the tension between the two men.  The Captain saw the dawning joy in his grandson’s often-unfathomable golden-brown eyes and said gruffly,  “So you invite your friends for supper at seven.  Just send me word so Polly and Biddy will know how many to cook for.”

Adam’s birthday supper was a great success.  Along with Aaron and Thomas he invited two other freshmen enrolled in the Scientific School: Fred Thompkins and Rob Fisher.  Polly and Biddy outdid themselves preparing a huge meal, which the five young men consumed like a horde of ravening locusts, much to the women’s delight.  They toasted Adam with a vintage Burgundy the Captain had kept for a special occasion.  When the meal was over, they all adjourned to the parlor where the Captain had Adam sit in his armchair.

“I have a gift for Adam, and if what his father writes me is true, it’s a gift we can all enjoy with him.”  He reached behind the settee and pulled out a guitar. “Thought you could play some songs and we could all sing.”

Adam nodded, truly touched by his grandfather’s present.  “Thank you, Grandfather, it’s a wonderful gift,” he said smiling warmly and the Captain was pleased he had selected something that Adam truly appreciated.  “Just let me tune it and then we can sing.”  They all waited patiently and when he was ready Adam asked, “What shall we sing first?   Do you all know Oh Susanna?”

Rob had a beautiful sweet tenor voice so he and Adam led the singing with Adam sometimes singing harmony. Oh Susanna was followed by Pop Goes the Weasel, Green Grow the Lilacs and Wait for the Wagon .  Then with a teasing smile Adam said, “I have one I’d like to play for my grandfather.  If you don’t know it, you’ll pick it up,” and he began singing What Shall We Do with a Drunken Sailor?  The others soon joined in. After all twelve verses, Adam and his friends thanked the Captain for his hospitality and regretfully said their good-byes.  “Your grandfather is a capital fellow,” Fred remarked as they walked toward the ferry.  “Mine is a regular tartar.”

“Uh-yup, and it was splendid of him to invite us to visit again,” added Rob.  “The food is certainly better than it is at the Commons, and there’s more of it.”

Adam replied with a grin, “That’s because Polly and Biddy think Aaron and I need fattening up.”

“Which you certainly don’t, Rob,” Thomas said poking him in the ribs, for Rob was definitely a bit stout.

“Do ya think there’ll be a letter from Adam?” Little Joe asked for what Ben was sure was at least the 1,000th time.  He was definitely regretting his decision to take both boys with him on his trip to Mormon Station for supplies and the mail.

“Joseph, I have told you repeatedly that we won’t know until we get to Mormon Station.  Don’t ask me again, young man!” Ben barked, his irritation obvious. He saw his youngest son’s big green eyes, so like his mother’s, begin to fill with tears and even his middle son looked downhearted.  “I’m sorry, Joe,” he said in a gentler tone.  “I know you’re anxious to get a letter from Adam—we all are—but you will just have to wait until we get to the trading post.  Understand?” and he gave the little boy’s neck an affectionate squeeze.

Joe nodded and smiled just a little and Hoss said wistfully, “Shore hope Adam got our gift in time for his birthday.”

“I do, too, Hoss.  I know he’ll be very happy to get it,” Ben replied with a warm smile.

“Adam and me used to sing on the way.  Wanna sing, Joe?” Hoss asked his baby brother, who nodded his head vigorously.  Ben joined in, trying to keep them in tune, but it was hopeless.  Adam was definitely the musician in the family and Ben missed hearing his rich baritone voice in the evenings, leading the singing and accompanying them on the guitar.

Finally, they reached Mormon Station and Hoss jumped off the wagon almost before Ben had stopped the team and made for the trading post.  While Ben and Joe were approaching the building, Hoss came barreling out yelling, “There’s a letter from Adam!” and waving it in the air.  “Can we read it now, Pa?  Please,” and those pellucid blue eyes looked so pleading that Ben bit off his refusal.

“All right.  Is there just one?”

“Yeah, it’s addressed to the Cartwrights of the Ponderosa Ranch,” Hoss replied handing the letter to his father while Joe was literally jumping for joy.

“Joseph, stop that jumping or we’ll wait until we get home to read Adam’s letter,” Ben said severely and Joe immediately stopped.  He and Hoss waited impatiently as their father tore open the letter.
 
 

— 1854

Dear Family,

I hope you’ll forgive me for writing one letter to all of you, but I just didn’t have time to write individual letters and I figured you’d rather have one than wait until I had time to write three.
First, I want to thank you so much for my gift.  I’ve put the daguerreotype of the three of you on my chest of drawers so it’s the first thing I see when I wake up and the last thing I see when I go to bed.  I had a marvelous birthday.  Grandfather hosted a birthday supper for me and let me invite some of my friends.  We had a wonderful time and after the dinner, Grandfather gave me his birthday present—a guitar.  I played and we all sang songs; it reminded me of all of you and the evenings we spent singing.  That really made me miss all of you, but I don’t think anyone else knew I was sad.   Grandfather wanted it to be a happy occasion for me; he told me it was what Mother would have wanted.  I wouldn’t have disappointed him for anything.  The fellows all liked him very much.  Maybe after I graduate, I can convince him to come back home with me for a visit.  I know you would like him, Hoss and Joe, and he always asks me about you.  I took the daguerreotype with me to his house this weekend so he could see all of you.  He said he could see Joe was a little devil  (What a perceptive man, right, Pa?)  He was surprised by how tall Hoss is, and he said you’d gotten old, Pa, and wanted to know if I was responsible for your gray hair.  I said no; Hoss and I never caused you any problems.  All your gray hairs were caused by Joe.

Ben and Hoss laughed at this but Joe looked confused.  “What’s Adam mean, Pa?”

“Never you mind, Joe.  Your brother is only teasing.”

“But what’s he mean I made you have gray hair?”

“He means that you are mischievous and don’t always do as you’re told.”  Seeing Joe frown he added, “Remember Adam is only teasing, Joe.   He knows he caused plenty of my gray hairs.  Hoss even caused a few although not as many as you and Adam, I’ll admit.  Let’s get back to Adam’s letter, okay?”
 

As much as I enjoy geometry, I would have to say my English literature class is my favorite.  We finished The Canterbury Tales and now we’re studying The Faerie Queene.  Next we’ll study Hamlet and King Lear.  I’m also finding studying The Odyssey in the original Greek challenging.  Thomas has been a real help when I’ve struggled with some passages and I’ve been able to help Aaron with geometry.  I think I would enjoy history if it weren’t for the instructor.

I guess that’s all my news for now.

Affectionately yours.
Adam

“I’ll jest never understand how Adam can enjoy all that studyin’,” Hoss said shaking his head in wonder.

“Pa, ain’t Adam too big to be readin’ fairy stories?” Joe asked in genuine puzzlement.

“I think The Faerie Queene is written for grown ups,” Ben replied. “I haven’t read it but I think it’s really about Queen Elizabeth of England and her court.”

“Well, why didn’t he jest write about them?” Hoss asked wrinkling his nose in puzzlement.  “Why’d he put fairies in the story?”

“I’m afraid I really don’t know,” Ben said with a chuckle.  “Why don’t you write Adam and ask him?”

“I guess I will,” Hoss said.  “I still say it beats me how he could rather read about queens and fairies instead of bein’ here workin’ on the ranch.”

Just then Joe broke in with an engaging grin.  “Can we get some candy, Pa?  Please?” and Ben nodded his assent.

“There’s a package from Boston as well, Ben,” Will Cass said while Hoss and Joe decided what kind of candy they could get for the penny Ben had given each of them.  “It got here a week before the letter.  I didn’t mention it to Hoss because I thought it might be Christmas presents from Adam.”

“I appreciate it, Will.  Think we could load it with the supplies so the boys won’t notice it?”

“I think it’ll fit in an empty crate that used to have canned peaches,” Will said with a wink.  “Now, let’s see your list of supplies.”

“So, Aaron, are you planning on traveling home for Christmas?” Captain Stoddard asked one December afternoon as the three men were roasting chestnuts in the parlor after a huge meal topped off by apple brown betty with heavy cream.

“I’d like to, but I know it’s not practical since I might get caught in a snowstorm,” Aaron replied dejectedly, popping a chestnut in his mouth.

“Well, I’d like to invite you to spend Christmas here with Adam and me.  Thought we’d get one of those newfangled German Christmas trees since Adam and his father have written me that they always have one at their ranch.”

“That would be wonderful, Grandfather,” Adam replied enthusiastically.

“I’ve heard of Christmas trees but we never had one,” Aaron commented reaching for his mug of coffee.

“They’re lots of fun to decorate,” Adam stated enthusiastically.  “We can tie apples on the lower branches and string popcorn, walnuts, and cranberries to wrap around the entire tree.  Marie,” and he paused for a moment suddenly overwhelmed with sadness and had to blink back scalding tears, “Marie and Hop Sing would bake gingerbread men cookies and tie them on the branches.  Maybe Polly and Biddy would bake some for us.  Hoss and Joe and I would cut snowflakes out of white paper and hang them on the littlest branches.  Finally you tie on lighted candles.  We only left the candles lit for a few minutes because Pa thought they were too dangerous, but they are a lovely sight.”

“Putting lighted candles on a tree seems like a sure way to start a fire, but I guess we could have a bucket of water close by,” Captain Stoddard harrumped and the two young men tried to hide their grins.  “Polly and Biddy will cook us a fine Christmas feast—roast turkey with oyster dressing and giblet gravy, mince pies and plum pudding.”

“Stop, Grandfather.  Have mercy.  It’s hard enough enduring the food at the Commons,” said Adam with a wry grin.
 

The next Sunday Adam walked hurriedly from the Stoddard home to the Park Street Church, wool scarf wrapped around his neck and overcoat collar turned up against the northeaster Boston was experiencing. As he was slipping into his choir robe, two of the young female choir members approached him shyly.

“Um, Emma and I were just wondering if you were planning on caroling on Christmas Eve,” Julia Quincy said in a shy, rather breathless voice, and Adam felt his breathing quicken at the sight of her soft brown eyes.  He was only peripherally aware of Emma Hastings’ small, plump figure standing beside her.  “Most of the other choir members do every year,” Julia continued.  “We meet at the Boston Common with other church choirs and anyone else who wishes to participate right at sundown.  After the caroling, we all meet at Reverend Stockton’s house for hot chocolate and gingerbread, and we play Snapdragon and Truth.”

“Truth?”

“It’s a game.  The person who is It has to answer any question truthfully.  It’s great fun,” Julia answered.

“All right.  I’d like to go caroling,” Adam replied.  “And my friend Aaron can come as well?”

“Of course,” Emma Hastings interjected.  “We’ll look forward to seeing you both.”

“We’re going to practice this afternoon, and you and your friend are welcome to come,” Julia added with a shy smile.

“I’d like to come, but I’ll have to check with Aaron," said Adam with a shy smile of his own.

When Adam told Aaron about the caroling on their walk home from church, he was skeptical.  “Adam, you know I croak like a bullfrog,” he protested.

“Nonsense, my boy,” the Captain spoke up before Adam could even open his mouth.  “You can’t have a worse voice than mine, but I used to enjoy caroling when I was your age.  Who knows, you might get a chance to steal a kiss from a pretty girl under the kissing ball afterward,” and he laughed loudly at their red faces.

Then the Captain said, “I received a letter from your parents, Aaron, thanking me for inviting you to spend Christmas with me and Adam.  Said I should be receiving a package from them between now and Christmas,” and he chuckled as he saw the boy’s eyes light up.  “A package all the way from Utah Territory arrived back on Wednesday,” he added winking at his grandson and was rewarded by the sight of Adam’s deep dimple.
 

“I think I’ll just pretend to sing,” Aaron said as they walked to the church carrying the lanterns they’d need for the return journey.  “You know, just move my lips but not make any sound.  What do you think?”

“You could just stand by me and sing softly,” Adam suggested.  “You don’t sound any worse than Hoss does.  Of course, that isn’t saying much,” he smirked.

“Very funny,” Aaron retorted, giving him a shove.  Then he looked up.  “It’s snowing Adam!”

“Yeah, we’d best hurry,” Adam replied looking at the sky.

Aaron was relieved to see that he wasn’t the only person there who was not part of the choir.  He stuck by Adam and sang very quietly. Adam was very glad he’d come because in addition to traditional Christmas carols such as Hark the Herald Angels Sing, Joy to the World, God Rest You Merry Gentlemen and Silent Night, there was one new carol he’d never heard:  It Came Upon a Midnight Clear, which had been written by an American a few years earlier.  When the practice ended, they all stepped outside to discover the snow was still falling and everything was covered by and inch or two of pure white snow, looking like frosting on a cake.  The young men (and even some of the older ones) couldn't resist scooping up the fresh snow and packing it into snowballs while the women began building a snowman.  Only the setting of the sun broke up the fun.  Adam and Aaron lit their lanterns and made their way back to Captain Stoddard’s house where they planned to spend the night.  They would then catch the first ferry across the Charles and be back at the college in plenty of time for their geometry class.

“Aaron, look!” Adam exclaimed the next morning, running into his friend’s bedroom, carrying his trousers over one arm, and flinging open the shutters.  “There must be over a foot of snow!”

“I guess we’d better hurry and shovel your grandfather’s walk for him,” Aaron said shivering as he stood barefoot by Adam at the window.

“Yeah, but I hope he stays home today.  He shouldn’t be out in that snow,’ Adam said worriedly as he pulled his trousers on over his long woolen drawers.  “I’ll get our shaving water,” he said over his shoulder as he slipped out the door.  He returned a few minutes later with a pitcher of hot water and the two young men proceeded to lather their faces and sharpen their razors before shaving.  As they shaved they could smell the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee and knew that Polly and Biddy must have arrived.

“Think we can get a cup of coffee before we start shoveling?” Aaron asked and Adam replied, “I don’t see why not.”  Biddy poured them each a cup, which they drank hurriedly before putting on their scarves, gloves and overcoats.  They shoveled quickly, their noses and ears growing red from the cold.

“Wish I had one of those caps with earflaps I used to wear as a boy,” Adam commented.

“Me, too,” Aaron replied.  “Or a wool stocking cap.  Hats don’t keep your ears warm, that’s for sure.”

As soon as she heard the boys on the mud porch, Biddy began dishing up plates of sausage, eggs and popovers.  “Thanks, Biddy,” they said as they came into the dining room rubbing their cold hands, their ears and noses cherry-red from the cold.  “We’ve got to eat fast because it’s going to take longer than we planned to get to the ferry,” Adam added.

The Captain came in then and overhearing the remark said, “With this much snow, the ferry may be running late.  You might do better to just walk over the West Boston Bridge.”

“Let’s take our popovers with us and eat them on the way,” Adam suggested and Aaron nodded his agreement, his mouth being occupied with chewing his breakfast.

Adam and Aaron gulped down their breakfast and a second cup of coffee before hurrying to put their overcoats and scarves back on and then tromped into the dining room and grabbed their popovers.

“We’ll see you on Christmas Eve, Grandfather,” Adam called as he and Aaron hurried out the front door.

“Wish I’d worn my boots instead of Balmorals,” Adam muttered as he and Aaron fought their way through wet, heavy snow and a driving wind.  “Even wearing two pairs of socks, my feet are cold.”

“You can say that again,” Aaron agreed.  “I’m afraid my toes are going to freeze before we get to the Yard.”

They were so cold when they arrived at the college that they went back to their room to warm up.  They missed their first two classes but made it to the third.  After dinner the underclassmen had snowball fights and built snowmen until their fingers and toes grew numb with cold.

The days until Christmas Eve passed quickly and Adam and Aaron packed their valises and set off for Captain Stoddard’s home.  Biddy was waiting and insisted on taking the bags upstairs so they could leave with the Captain to get their Christmas tree.  The Captain and Aaron deferred to Adam’s expertise and let him select the tree while Polly and Biddy began popping popcorn.  (At Adam’s request they’d already purchased a large amount of cranberries and walnuts.)
 

“You two rascals are putting more popcorn in your bellies than you are on the string,” Captain Stoddard scolded half in jest and half in earnest as the three gathered in the Stoddard parlor in their shirtsleeves, sans neckties, to decorate the Christmas tree.  Polly and Biddy sat in another corner busily tying red ribbons on apple stems so they could be tied on the branches.

“Don’t scold the lads, Captain,” Polly said sternly.  “Biddy can easily make more popcorn,” and Biddy nodded vigorously.

“No, Grandfather is right,” Adam replied with a sheepish grin.  “I always tease Hoss about eating more than he strings.”  His smile dimmed then replaced by a wave of homesickness.

“I’m certain they’re missing you as well,” Captain Stoddard said quietly.  “I suppose they are decorating their tree about now.”

“Yeah,” Adam said quietly.  He made an effort then to smile for his grandfather’s sake.  “I’ll have to write them all about our tree.”

“Why don’t you draw them a sketch of us working on the decorations,” Aaron suggested.  “The Captain and I can string on our own.”  He was feeling homesick as well but also didn’t want to disappoint Captain Stoddard.

“I think I will, and I’ll make a copy for your family” Adam said enthusiastically.  He went and got his sketchbook and perched on the stairs where he could view the entire parlor.  His pencil flew over the sheet showing the bare fir tree in front of the bay window, the two women in the corner each with a bowl of apples in her lap and bright red ribbons draped over her chair, and the sofa where the Captain and Aaron sat at either end with bowls of popcorn, cranberries and walnuts on the table in front of them and a growing string piled on the floor.

“After you finish, I’ll add you to the sketch,” Aaron said with a grin and Adam nodded.  He was lost in his drawing when he heard Aaron say, “We’re almost done here.  Let’s trade places.”  When Aaron finished, he held up the completed sketch and they all admired it.  Then he suggested sketching them as they wound the string around the tree and tied on the apples, and he moved into the parlor so that he could concentrate on Adam as he directed the others.

“All right, enough sketching,” the Captain commanded after they finished wrapping the string and had most of the apples tied on.  “You and Adam can sketch the finished tree for your families.  Right now we need to finish hanging the apples and add the gingerbread men.”

“Then we need to cut out snowflakes to put on the smallest branches and a star to place on the top,” Adam stated.  “This tree will be as fine as any I’ve ever seen.”

“And if we’re to finish before you two leave to go caroling, we’d best get back to work,” the Captain added.

He had to admit the tree was a beautiful sight when it was finished.  “I think it’s time to put the gifts under it,” he said with a broad smile.  “I expect you can be trusted to keep your hands off them until tomorrow morning.  Right?” and they nodded eagerly.

“Actually, we have some gifts to go under the tree as well,” Adam said with a smirk.  “Come on, Aaron,” and they headed upstairs to their bedrooms, while the Captain headed for the cellar where he’d stashed the gifts their families had sent.
 

“Now, you lads need to bundle up; don’t want you catching your deaths,” the Captain said as Adam and Aaron were at the front door ready to go caroling.

“Grandfather, we are each wearing two pairs of socks, two pairs of drawers and two undershirts.  We’ll be fine,” Adam replied, rolling his eyes while Aaron smirked.

“Just make sure you wrap your scarves around your necks and wear your hats,” the Captain replied gruffly.  He remembered Benjamin writing him that Adam was susceptible to chest colds.

“Yes, Grandmother,” Adam replied ducking as the Captain reached up to playfully box his ears.

“Off with you lads and have a wonderful time.  Give the girls a kiss from me, eh?” he called as they set off for Boston Common.
 

Adam enjoyed the caroling tremendously and even Aaron felt brave enough to actually sing, albeit softly.  When the caroling was over, they adjourned with the rest of the Park Street Church choir to the parsonage.  Adam was standing with Aaron drinking hot chocolate when he noticed Julia Quincy and two of her friends were staring at him and giggling.  He started to ask Aaron if there was anything wrong with his appearance when the three girls walked over to them.  Emma Hastings (who barely stood as high as Adam’s shoulder) walked right up to him, stood on tiptoe, and placing her hands on his shoulders and pushing him down, kissed him right on the mouth.  No sooner did she kiss him than auburn-haired Louisa Phelps walked over and kissed him.  Adam’s cheeks were beginning to burn but he waited to see if the lovely Julia was also going to kiss him.  She smiled shyly before she too placed a quick kiss on his lips.

“All right, Cartwright.  Let someone else stand under the kissing ball,” one of the other men laughed and Adam’s face flushed scarlet when he looked up and saw he was indeed standing directly under the kissing ball.  He had to put up with a lot of good-natured teasing until everyone was absorbed with playing Snapdragon.  Adam burned his fingers but Aaron turned out to be a champion.

“I’ve played Snapdragon since I was a nipper,” he told Adam grinning.  “It just takes practice.”

Next it was time to play Truth.  Julia was the first chosen as It .  “Who is the handsomest man here?” Emma asked with a saucy grin.  Julia’s cheeks burned but Emma only said insistently, “You must answer truthfully.”

“Adam Cartwright,” Julia whispered but Adam heard and felt himself grinning exultantly.  He had hoped Julia felt the same attraction for him that he felt for her, and now he knew!

When it was his turn to be It and Aaron slyly asked which girl he thought was the prettiest, he answered without hesitation, “Julia Quincy.”   He was gazing into her eyes, so he didn’t see the disappointed looks on some of the other faces.  He was startled when Julia asked him a question.

“After you graduate, what do you plan to do?”

“Go back home and use what I learned to improve our ranch,” he replied and thought he saw a look of chagrin on her face.

“D’ya think Adam has a tree as beautiful as ours at his grandfather’s house?” Joe asked as the three Cartwrights stepped back to admire their newly decorated tree.

“I don’t know,” Ben answered, giving Joe’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze.  “When Adam and I spent Christmas at his grandfather’s, we didn’t have a tree.”

“You spent Christmas with Adam’s grandfather?” Hoss asked in surprise.

“Your brother and I spent his first two Christmases in Boston with his grandfather.”

“Tell us about it, Pa,” Joe said excitedly, tugging on Ben’s hand.  “Please,” and he smiled his most winning smile.

“There’s not much to tell,” Ben replied evasively but seeing the disappointment on both his sons’ faces he managed a faint smile.  “All right, let’s sit on the settee and I’ll tell you what I remember.”

Joe climbed on Ben’s lap and Hoss sat right next to Ben.  This is going to be a difficult Christmas, Ben thought as he put an arm around Hoss’s shoulders and hugged Joe with the other, with Marie gone and Adam far away in Massachusetts.

“Tell us about Adam’s first Christmas,” Joe demanded.

“Adam was just a little baby then, not even two months old.  He was too little to understand about Christmas or Christmas stockings or Christmas gifts.  About all babies do at that age is sleep and eat.”

“And dirty their diapers,” Hoss added wrinkling his nose as Ben smiled.

“If you didn’t have a Christmas tree and Adam didn’t have a Christmas stocking or Christmas presents, what did you do?” Joe asked in a puzzled tone.

“We went to church on Christmas Eve.  Not Adam though,” Ben added hastily.  “His grandfather and I didn’t want to take him out in the cold so we left him at home with the housekeeper.”

“It doesn’t sound like Adam had a very merry first Christmas,” Joe said dejectedly.  Then he looked curiously at Ben and said, “What about Adam’s mama?  Didn’t she do anything for him at Christmas?’

Hoss looked anxiously at his father’s face then, knowing he always became very sad when he thought about Adam’s mother.  Ben was silent for a few moments and then he said quietly, “Adam’s mother was dead, Joe.  She died right after Adam was born, remember?  She never got to spend a Christmas with him.”

“Never?” Joe said, his emerald eyes enormous.  “Not even one?’

“Not even one,” Ben replied and the two boys heard the pain in his voice.  “Hoss and his mother never got to spend a Christmas together either, but Adam and I had one Christmas with her.”

Joe’s eyes were bright with unshed tears as he said in a quavering voice, “I guess I’m lucky ‘cause I got to spend lots of Christmases with my mama.”

“You are lucky,” Ben said gently, kissing his soft cheek, “but Adam, Hoss and I had lots of merry Christmases, didn’t we?”

“Shore did,” Hoss replied feeling happier and smiling his gap-toothed grin.  “I remember the Christmas Adam got his rifle.”

“Oh yes,” Ben said with a straight face.  “That was the Christmas he was twelve, wasn’t it?”

“Just like Hoss is.  Think Santa Claus will bring Hoss a rifle?” Joe asked brightly.

“I don’t know,” Ben replied aiming a huge grin at his middle son.  “I’m afraid I’m not privy to Santa Claus’s secrets.”  And he winked broadly at Hoss.

“Pa,” Hoss said his expression now serious.  “That Christmas you and Adam and my mama had together—did you have a Christmas tree and stockings and presents?’

“Adam had a stocking full of nuts, an apple and even an orange.  First one he ever had if I remember right.  His eyes were as big and round as saucers when he woke up Christmas morning and saw his stocking and his gifts sitting on his chest of drawers.  He got a present from your mama and me, one from his grandfather and one from Santa Claus.  He was so happy, happier than I’d ever seen him before,” and a wistfulness crept into Ben’s voice.

“What did you and Hoss’s mama give him?” Joe asked curiously.

Ben smiled fondly as he answered, “Inger knitted him a new pair of mittens, and a scarf.  Santa brought him a new cap with earflaps and his grandfather sent him a picture book—Beauty and the Beast I think it was that year but it might have been Puss in Boots.”

“Poor Adam always gets books for presents,” Joe said wrinkling his nose.

“Shucks, Adam loves gittin’ books, Joe,” Hoss chuckled.  “I bet there’s nobody else in the whole world who loves books like Adam does.”

 “Well, as much as Adam liked his Christmas gifts, I think your mama was the best gift I could have given him.  He loved her so much.”

“He loved my mama, too, didn’t he?” Joe asked in a troubled voice.

“Of course he did,” Ben replied with a reassuring smile.  “But he was the same age Hoss is now when I married your mama and he didn’t need a mother in the same way he did when he was your age and I married Hoss’s mama.  But, to get back to that Christmas.  We didn’t have a tree.  Your mama, Hoss, told us about how Christmas was celebrated in Sweden when she was a little girl.  She explained that a couple of weeks before Christmas, on St. Lucia’s day, the youngest daughter in a family puts on a white dress and a crown of evergreens with lighted candles attached, wakes her parents and serves them Lucia buns.  She was the only daughter so she had done that ever since she could remember.  On Christmas Eve, she fixed us a Christmas ham, pickled pigs’ feet, and a special kind of rice porridge with an almond hidden in it.  Whoever finds the almond is supposed to marry during the coming year.  Adam got the almond and he was quite insistent that he was not getting married,” Ben said with a chuckle.  “Let me see ... Your mother also made a special kind of gingerbread cookie shaped like a goat.

“We never had a Christmas tree until we were living here in this cabin.  A German immigrant family that traded with us told us about Christmas trees and Adam wanted to have one,” Ben said reminiscently.

“Didn’t I want one?” Hoss asked.

“You were only about two then and anything your big brother thought was a good idea was good enough for you,” Ben replied smiling at Hoss, who smiled back.  “Adam and I strung popcorn and you ate it faster than we could string it so I kept having to stop and pop more.  I remember Adam took most of the apples we’d gotten in Placerville and hung them on the branches.  Santa Claus brought you each a present and you each had a stocking full of nuts and an orange.”  He smiled warmly at Hoss and reached over and squeezed his neck affectionately.  “I will never forget the expression on your face and Adam’s when you came out and saw your gifts under the tree.”

He stopped and ruffled Joe’s honey-blond curls then.  “Your mama introduced us to some French Christmas customs.  She began baking the Three Kings Cake; we’d never done that before.”

“That’s right.  It was Mama who showed us that,” Hoss said smiling.

“And she was the one who began hanging cookies on the tree,” Ben added.  “And now Hop Sing has baked us cookies to hang on the tree and he’ll bake a Three Kings Cake just like your mama did,” Ben said to Joe.  “If we could find someone who had a recipe for your mama’s rice porridge, then Hop Sing would make that as well,” he said to Hoss.

“And we’ll still read The Night Before Christmas, right?” Joe asked.

“Of course we will,” Ben replied, hugging him.  “That’s been a tradition since Adam and I spent our first Christmas traveling west.  And I’ll read the Christmas story.  But right now I think we’d better get started on our evening chores so we’ll be ready for supper.”
 
 
 

The weather kept the Cartwrights confined to the ranch for much of January.  Hoss was happy that he couldn’t attend school.  He and Joe spent much of their time playing in the snow although he still had his regular chores such as chopping kindling and helping to feed and water the stock and muck out stalls. Joe was responsible for feeding the chickens and pigs, filling the wood box and, with assistance from Hoss, he cared for his little dun pony, Buttermilk.  Adam’s mare, Beauty, and his own little blue roan mare, Sugar, were Hoss’s special responsibilities.  Beauty was nearly ready to foal so he spent extra time with her, brushing her and talking to her.  He was hoping her foal would be a colt, one that he could raise as a replacement for Sugar, who at twenty was ready to be put out to pasture.  Beauty and the foal’s sire were each over fifteen hands high so Hoss was sure the foal would be big enough to be his mount.  Poor Sugar was only a little over fourteen hands high, which was another reason Pa agreed that he would need another mount soon.

“Guess you miss Adam, too, don’t ya, girl?” he said one morning as he curried the pretty chestnut mare.  The mare whickered as if in answer and Hoss chuckled.  “Guess he probably didn’t get my last letter yet tellin’ him that I got a rifle for Christmas.  That and the purty bridle he got for yer foal were my fav’rite gifts.  And Joe shore likes those soldiers he got.  It was real nice of Adam’s grandfather to send us that daguerreotype of him and Adam.  You wouldn’t recognize Adam, Beauty, in those city clothes.  Pa says he dressed like that every day when he lived in Boston.  Jest cain’t picture it though.

“Adam sounds so happy in his letters that sometimes I worry that he’ll decide to stay there in Boston.  We’d really miss him, wouldn’t we, girl?  Pa misses him a lot, too.  He don’t say much, but I can see it in his eyes.  Things jest ain’t the same with Adam and Mama gone.  Now we never sing in the evenings like we used to and Pa’s so busy with the books that he ain’t hardly got time to read Joe bedtime stories like Mama and Adam used to do.  I tried but I’m jest not a good reader and I could tell Little Joe’d rather have Pa.  I cain’t even help Pa with the books ‘cause I’m not good at cipherin’ like Adam.  I’m not sayin’ Adam’s smarter than Pa, but he shore could do the books lots quicker.

“Oh, he could, could he?” and Hoss jumped at the sound of Ben’s voice causing Beauty to toss her head back and roll her eyes.  “Didn’t mean to startle you, son,” Ben said with a friendly smile.  “And you’re right.  Adam could balance the books in half the time it takes me.  He gets it from his mother; she was also good with numbers.”

“I didn’t think girls was good at arithmetic,” Hoss said in surprise.

“It depends on the girl,” Ben replied.  “Your mother was pretty good at it, too.”  He chuckled then saying, “I think you must take after me when it comes to arithmetic,” and he was pleased to see his son’s huge grin.  “Now, young man, Hop Sing says he’s taking the next boat to China if we don’t sit down at the table immediately.”

“Okay,” Hoss replied putting up the curry brush and comb.  “I’d like to check on Beauty after breakfast though.  I think her time is real close.”

“All right,” Ben said with a sigh as they walked back to the cabin.  “Maybe Joseph will play quietly with his soldiers while Hop Sing cleans up. But you know your brother expects you to play with him since you’re not going to school.  If you think Beauty might foal today, then I’ll have Jose work on getting the tack room in order so he’ll be close by,” and he was rewarded by his son’s grateful smile.

That evening when Ben returned from taking hay to the stock in the south pasture, two excited boys greeted him.  “Beauty had her foal!” Little Joe hollered before Hoss could even open his mouth.  He glared at his unrepentant younger brother before adding, “It’s a colt, Pa. He’s a dark bay with a white blaze on his face.  Want to see him?”

“Sure,” Ben replied with a grin.  “Go put your coat on.”

“Me, too,” Joe announced but Ben said firmly, “No, Joseph.  Beauty won’t want a lot of people near her foal just yet.  You can see the colt in a few days.”

“No!  I want to see the foal today!” and Joe stamped his foot defiantly.

“Joseph,” Ben said in the voice all his sons recognized.

“Please, Pa,” he begged and his green eyes began to swim with tears.

“No, Joseph, and if you ask me again, we’re going to have a necessary talk.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Joe replied sullenly and stomped over to where his soldiers were spread on the floor in battle formation.  Ben sighed.  Sometimes his youngest son reminded him very much of his eldest.

“I already wrote a letter to Adam so I can mail it the next time we go to Mormon Station,” Hoss said happily as they walked to the barn.

“If the weather holds, I plan on going tomorrow.  Hop Sing says we need flour and baking soda and salt.”

“Some o’ them canned peaches ‘d be mighty nice,” Hoss suggested.  “And maybe some lemon drops?”

“Maybe,” Ben agreed with a twinkle in his eye.  They approached Beauty’s stall and Ben saw a fine looking colt nursing.

“I told Beauty she done good,” Hoss said beaming proudly.

“She did well indeed,” Ben said.  “I think the colt will make you a fine mount.  Thought of a name yet?”

“Not yet.  It’s got to be the right name.”  They stood side by side in companionable silence marveling at the miracle before them.  Ben was surprised when Hoss broke the silence.  “Pa, do ya ever think that maybe Adam might decide to stay in Boston?”

Ben started to offer an empty reassurance but something in Hoss’s face stopped him.  “Yes, Hoss, I think that might happen.”

“Then why’d ya let him go?  I mean, I know Mama wanted it but ¼” and his voice trailed off.

“You know your older brother and you know how much he wanted to go to college.  If I had forbidden him, what do you think would have happened?”

Hoss was silent, considering.  When he replied it was in a quiet, troubled voice.  “I think when he was twenty-one, he would’ve left, and there’d ‘ve been no way to stop him.  He most likely wouldn’t never come back neither except maybe for a visit.”

“You are very wise for a boy that’s only twelve,” Ben said looking into the clear, trusting blue eyes that reminded him so much of Inger’s.  “And you know your older brother very well, for that’s exactly what I thought.  You see, Hoss, when you love someone—really love him—you want what is best for him.  It was best that Adam have an opportunity to expand his education and to meet his grandfather.  I hope and pray that your brother will come back to us, but it has to be because it’s what he wants.  It would be terrible if he came back out of a sense of duty and all the time he were wishing he was back East.”

Hoss slowly exhaled and then said sadly, “Yeah, you’re right, Pa.”  Then his face brightened and he said, “Adam loves the Ponderosa and he loves us.  I think he’ll want to come back.”
 
 

A few weeks later Paul Martin dropped by with another letter from Adam.  “I was hoping I’d be invited to stay and hear what Adam has to say,” he said grinning at Ben as he handed him the letter.”

“Of course, Paul, of course.  We’re just getting ready for dinner and then we’ll read the letter.”

“Aw Pa, can’t we read Adam’s letter first?” Joe whined.

“Joseph,” Ben said sternly but he was surprised when Hop Sing spoke up saying, “Dinner can wait until read Mista Adam’s letter, Mr. Cartwright.”

“All right with you, Paul?” and the doctor nodded with a slight smile, for he was as surprised as Ben by the cook’s words.
 
 

— 1855

Dear Family,

Next time I’ll try to write letters to each of you but I wanted to get this letter off as soon as possible.  Thank you so much for my Christmas presents.  Hop Sing’s gingersnaps were still delicious even after traveling all that distance.  Aaron and I have just about finished them off now.  We were greedy and we didn’t share them with anyone else. Joe, I really like my new shaving mug.  My doeskin gloves are the envy of all my friends, Hoss.  It was clever of you to find a pair of my old gloves to use as a pattern.  Pa, I’ve begun keeping my journal.  It will be interesting years from now to go back and read my thoughts when I was a student.  Grandfather got Aaron and me each a copy of Webster’s Dictionary—a most useful and appreciated gift. I thought he might also enjoy Moby Dick so I got him a copy as well and we are reading it aloud when I visit.  Aaron bought him a bottle of port and his mother sent him a pair of slippers that she’d made.  (Aaron and I had managed to trace a pair of his boots and sent the pattern to her.)  Grandfather was really touched by her gift but he tried to hide it.

We had a wonderful Christmas.  Grandfather and Aaron had never seen a Christmas tree before, but they enjoyed decorating ours and Aaron says he’s going to write his family and suggest they have one next year.  Christmas Eve Aaron and I went caroling and then there was a party afterward.  I forgot to watch where I stood and was surprised when three girls walked up and kissed me.  Then I found out I was standing under the kissing ball.  I was embarrassed but I enjoyed the kisses, especially Julia’s. ...

“Ewww, Adam kissed a girl!” Joe said in horror while Hoss blushed, Paul and Hop Sing grinned and Ben looked discomfited.

“Let’s get back to Adam’s letter,” he said huffily.
 

Christmas Day Polly and Biddy cooked us a regular feast.  (Grandfather had them each take a third of the turkey home to their families as his Christmas gift to them.)  We served ourselves and Aaron and I did the washing up as our Christmas gift to Polly and Biddy.

This term is completed.  (The final examination is just before summer vacation, and I’ll know my standing then.)  My new classes have started and I’m happy to report that none of these professors is as boring as my history professor was.  This term I am taking trigonometry, English grammar, astronomy, and Spanish.  (I am glad modern languages are offered; if I am going to learn a language, I want to be able to actually use it.  I am at a bit of an advantage since thanks to Jose I already know a little Spanish.)  English grammar isn’t as interesting as English literature, but I’m sure I’ll do just as well.

Thomas has managed to obtain invitations for Aaron and me to a ball in Boston where we can dance and flirt with the young ladies.  Aaron is nervous and I guess I am just a little.  I am certain that polite society here is stricter than it was in San Francisco, but I am looking forward to dancing with some pretty girls.  (And I won’t forget Marie’s instruction to be sure and dance with the girls no one else asks.  I don’t know which is worse: Having to screw up your courage and ask a girl to dance or having to wait and pray that someone will ask you.)  I am hoping that Julia Quincy will be at the party.  She is very pretty and from the brief conversations we’ve had she seems more interesting than many of the girls I’ve met, who have nothing on their minds but clothes and who is getting married.

Affectionately yours,
Adam

“I’m glad Adam liked my present.  What’s a dicshunry?” Joe asked.

“Dictionary, Joseph.  It’s a book that lists all the words in a language and tells you what they mean and how to spell them.  A very appropriate gift for two young scholars.”

“Huh?” and Ben and Paul had to smile at the puzzled looks on the two boys’ faces.

“Your father means a dictionary was an excellent gift for Adam and his friend.”

“That was real nice of Aaron’s mother to make slippers for Adam’s grandfather,” Hoss commented.

“Yes, it was.  I imagine Aaron’s parents were very thankful to the Captain for inviting him to spend Christmas with them since he couldn’t travel home.”

“Hey, Pa!” Hoss said excitedly, “there’s more pages in the envelope!”  He pulled out three additional sheets of paper and read, “Here are some sketches Aaron and I made for our families of our Christmas tree.”  He unfolded the other sheets and said with delight, “Look!  They did have a tree and they’re stringin’ the popcorn jest like we do!”

“Lemme see!” Joe demanded.  “Lookee, Pa, that’s Adam!  And that must be Aaron and that’s Adam’s grandfather!”  Ben, Paul and Hop Sing crowded around the boys to see the drawings.

“Mista Aaron too skinny,” Hop Sing said shaking his head.  “When Mista Adam come home, he need bring friend so Hop Sing can fatten up,” and Ben and Paul hid their smiles behind their hands.

“It’s a nice tree, but not as nice as ours,” Joe decided.

“Remember, Adam wrote that it was the first Christmas tree Aaron and his grandfather had ever seen,” Paul commented.

“I reckon that’s why in the picture Adam is tellin’ everyone where to put things.  Course,” Hoss added with a big grin, “Adam does enjoy bein’ bossy.”  He only laughed when his father playfully cuffed his head.

Adam did his best to examine his appearance in his shaving mirror.  He’d grown three-quarters of an inch since he’d been at Harvard and now stood 6’ ¾” and he was pleased to observe he had a man’s physique rather than a boy’s.  He’d chosen the black dress coat and trousers that he’d had made since he arrived in Cambridge, a dove-gray silk waistcoat and a black silk tie.  After straightening his tie, he decided his appearance was satisfactory and turned to see how Aaron was progressing.  Poor Aaron’s dove-gray dress coat didn’t hang as well on his thin angular frame but that was probably because Shelburne Falls’ tailors were not as skillful as Boston’s.  He’d chosen a waistcoat of scarlet brocade embroidered in emerald and gold.  A bit too colorful for Adam’s taste, but probably perfectly acceptable.  He only wished Aaron had not used quite so much pomade on his hair.

There was a knock on their door and Thomas walked in, wearing a dress coat of charcoal-gray with gray-striped trousers and a waistcoat of silvery gray embroidered in black.  “Are you ready?” he asked.

“Just let us get our gloves,” Adam answered and he slipped on a pair of white kid while Aaron put on a pair of gray kid.

“Uh, Aaron, only white are acceptable at a formal occasion, but I have a spare pair you can use,” Thomas said kindly.  Aaron stared at Thomas’s small slender hands and then his large ones in dismay.

“I think it would be better if I loaned Aaron a pair,” Adam interjected quickly and was rewarded by a smile from his friend.

Thomas had rented a carriage so the three of them could arrive at the ball in style.  As soon as he entered the room, Adam looked for Julia Quincy.  He spotted her, looking lovely in a gown of dark green taffeta that bared her milky white shoulders.  Her golden-brown hair was done up in a knot at the back while long ringlets framed her heart-shaped face.  She seemed to sense his regard for she looked his direction and their eyes locked before she looked away, a faint blush on her cheeks.  He quickly made his excuses to his friends and walked over to Julia.

“I see our Romeo has found his Juliet,” Thomas murmured to Aaron.

“He’s been worrying all week about whether he’d have a chance to dance with her and talk with her,” Aaron replied with a grin.  “There would have been no living with him if she hadn’t been here.”

“Well, let me introduce you to our hostess and then some of the young ladies,” Thomas said with an answering grin.

Julia was speaking with two other young men so Adam had to wait his turn.  “I hope you saved room on your dance card for me, Miss Quincy,” he said softly.

“I believe I do have some openings, Mr. Cartwright,” she replied looking at him through half-lowered lashes.

“Yes, I see you have a waltz and a polka.  May I?” he asked a little nervously.  His apprehension transformed to joy when she nodded her assent.  He had no chance to say more because there were other young men wanting to speak with her, so he looked about at the other young ladies.  There was a lovely blonde—just a little plump but very well endowed—to whom his grandfather had introduced him.  He searched his memory for her name.  Sophie, that was it.  He strolled over and claimed her as a partner for the Virginia reel.  He spied Thomas, who introduced him to a slender, sloe-eyed brunette named Mae and a jolly girl named Harriet with curly ash-brown hair and bright blue eyes that reminded him of Hoss’s.  He signed Mae’s dance card for a mazurka and Harriet’s for another reel.  He was free for the opening dance and as the music began, he glanced around for girls with no partners.  He decided to ask a tall, skinny, freckle-faced girl with flaming red hair.

“Excuse me, miss,” he said bowing slightly.  “I know we haven’t been formally introduced, but I’m Adam Cartwright.”

“Elsie Wilder,” she said breathlessly, her face as red as her hair.  Surely, this handsome young man won’t ask me to dance, will he?

“May I have the honor of this dance?” he said displaying his deep dimple.

“Oh yes!” she replied positively beaming at him and revealing two dimples of her own.

It was a quadrille, not one of Adam’s favorite dances, but he managed all right and was pleased to see how happy his partner was.  He was even more pleased when Aaron approached them afterward and asked Miss Wilder for a dance.  He had to hide a smile because they were both so tall and thin that he thought it would be like seeing two beanpoles dance.

This was his dance with Mae, who proved to be a graceful and energetic dancer.  However, he found himself watching for Julia and he felt a twinge of jealousy when he saw her smiling at her partner.  He forced himself to concentrate on his own partner, who really was quite lovely.

Next was his dance with the buxom Sophie and he was sorry he had her for the Virginia reel, which didn’t allow him to be close to her although he still managed to steal glances at her abundant charms.  He decided he wanted a break from dancing but he saw several wallflowers so he approached a chubby girl dressed in a very fussy gown that was most unflattering, introduced himself and asked her to dance.  It was the first waltz of the evening and he definitely regretted his choice for the young woman had applied her cologne liberally and in the heat of the ballroom it was overwhelming.  She also tried to be closer to him than was proper, managing to brush her bosom against his chest.  He disengaged himself as soon as politeness permitted and headed for the punchbowl.

“It looks like you are determined to dance with every wallflower,” Thomas told him with a grin.

“I’m just trying to be polite,” Adam replied.

“And you don’t care who your partner is if it’s not the fair Julia, right?’

Adam grinned sheepishly then asked, “Is Aaron enjoying himself?”

“He was pretty stiff with the young ladies I introduced him to, but he seems to enjoy Elsie Wilder’s company.  They’ve danced twice.  I may need to remind him that he can’t dance every dance with her.  It just isn’t done.”

“Aside from that last dance, I’m enjoying myself.  Thanks again for getting us invitations,” Adam said smiling warmly.

“We all needed a break from studying,” Thomas replied with an answering smile.  “Do you have dances like this in Utah?”

“No,” Adam chuckled.  “There are very few white women in Western Utah and the few settlers are widely scattered for the most part.  There aren’t any cities or towns—just some scattered trading posts and our only real settlement, Mormon Station.  I did attend balls and parties in San Francisco, however, during the year I was there studying with my tutor, and my stepmother made sure I read Advice to Young Gentlemen on Entering Society.”  He smiled at his friend.  “Were you afraid you’d invited an uncouth savage?”

“Hardly.  Truthfully, I was more worried about Aaron fitting in.  It is obvious that you’ve had previous exposure to polite society.”  He paused and asked curiously, “What do you do for amusement out on the frontier?”

“First, we don’t have a lot of time for amusement,” Adam replied seriously.  “We’re busy from sunup to sundown breaking horses, herding strays, cutting hay, chopping firewood, mucking out stalls, and doing some hunting and fishing.  The women are just as busy with their chores.  On the Fourth of July, everyone in the area tries to get together and have a celebration.  The women cook and bake and then we play horseshoes or have contests—shooting or hatchet throwing—that sort of thing.  Year before last, one of the men played the fiddle and there was some dancing—mostly married couples like my father and stepmother.  Since there were so few women, the men had to take turns tying a bandana around their arms and being a ‘lady’.”
Thomas raised both eyebrows saying, “How rustic.  Tell, me did you take a turn as a ‘lady’?”

Adam shrugged.  “Sure.  So did my father.  My stepmother was very beautiful so she was in great demand and Pa only got to dance with her a couple of times.  I danced with her once, which didn’t make some of the other men very happy with me.”  Just then the dance ended and Adam went to claim his waltz with Julia.

He was careful not to hold her closer than propriety allowed, no matter how much he longed to.  She was so light and graceful in his arms that they actually seemed to be floating just above the parquet floor.

“You look awfully serious, Adam,” she said as they whirled around the dance floor.

“I’m sorry.  I was just thinking how very beautiful you look tonight.  ‘She walks in beauty, like the night/Of cloudless climes and starry skies;/And all that’s best of dark and bright/Meet in her aspect and her eyes,’” he quoted.

“Why, Mr. Cartwright,” she replied with pink cheeks, “I didn’t know that you were a flirt.”

“I’m not, Miss Quincy,” he said, his own cheeks reddening slightly.  “It just seemed to me that Byron was describing you.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” she said with a little smile.  “I hope I’m not vain, but I certainly don’t mind being described as beautiful.  Especially by you,” and she looked at him beneath her lashes.

He smiled then revealing his dimple and daringly held her a little closer.  He could smell her light, sweet perfume and it was intoxicating.  The waltz ended much too soon and he had to give her to her next partner before claiming his own.

“Mr. Cartwright,” Harriet said, fanning herself vigorously.  “Would you mind if we sat this dance out?  I need to catch my breath, and I’d love a glass of punch.”

“I don’t mind,” he said quirking his lips in a hint of a smile.  “I’ll be right back with your punch.”

“So how are you liking Harvard?” she asked as she sipped her punch.  “It must be quite different from life on the frontier.  Pretty dull I would imagine.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.  There’s a lot of routine on a ranch, you know.  Every morning without fail the stock has to be fed and watered, stalls have to be mucked out,” and he smiled inwardly at the way she crinkled her nose at that.  “Every spring and fall we have a roundup and the calves have to be branded.  Strays have to be hunted down and then some of the cattle have to be driven over the Sierras to Placerville.  Plus every summer we have to cut hay for the stock to eat and enough wood to last us during the long winter.”  He paused and said with a hint of a smirk, “I’m afraid you’d find life on a ranch dull.”

“But the Indians,” Harriet protested.

“We get along all right with the Paiutes and the Washoe,” Adam said dismissively.  “One of my friends was an Indian.”

“I notice you use the past tense.”

“We used to go hunting and fishing when we were boys, not always with our fathers’ approval I should add.  When I return home we’ll be grown men and I doubt our paths will cross.”

“Even if you were friends, wasn’t your mother scared?’ Harriet persisted.

“My stepmother wasn’t fond of Indians,” Adam admitted reluctantly.  “However, if you picture life on our ranch as a series of endless battles with Indians, you are far off the mark.  Our struggle is with nature, not Indians.”

Harriet made a little moue of disappointment.  “So you are telling me life is as dull on the frontier as it is in Boston?”

“Life is what you make it.  I don’t find it dull here and I didn’t find it dull back home.”

“I suppose you’re right, but I crave excitement—adventure!”

“You might not like it once you found it,” Adam replied with a sardonic smile.  “Ah, the dance is over so we need to find our partners for the next.”  Easterners had such strange ideas about life in the west, but he quickly forgot all about Harriet since this was his second dance with Julia.

The polka didn’t allow much opportunity to talk but after it ended Adam said quickly, “Miss Quincy, may I call on you?”

“I’d like that very much, Mr. Cartwright,’ she replied causing Adam to smile.  Then she looked at him under her lashes and added, “If my father approves.”

“I’ll speak to him Sunday after the service,” Adam stated, feeling a knot of anxiety beginning to form in his gut.

Adam remembered little about the rest of the evening.  His mind was focused on the best method of approaching Julia’s father and gaining his permission to call on her.  When he arrived at his grandfather’s house Saturday morning, the Captain immediately noticed his abstracted air.

“Did you have a good time at the ball?” he asked, watching his grandson’s face carefully.

“It was marvelous,” Adam replied dimpling.

“I take it that you did get to dance with Miss Quincy then?” the older man said teasingly.

“Twice,” Adam replied with a jaunty grin.  “And one a waltz.”

“Ah, yours is a decadent generation,” the Captain said with a twinkle in his eye.  “In my day, no decent young woman would have allowed a young man to hold her in his arms while they danced,” he said in a pompous manner belied by his teasing expression.  “Would’ve liked to have waltzed with your grandmother though.”

“Oh, they danced back in the olden days?” Adam asked with a cheeky grin and ducked when his grandfather pretended to box his ears.  He hesitated before deciding to confide in his grandfather.  After all, if he were successful, then everyone would know he was courting Julia.  “I, uh, asked Julia if I could call on her,” he announced diffidently.  The Captain’s eyebrows lifted fractionally at this but he remained silent.  “She said I could if I got her father’s permission.”

“Very proper,” Captain Stoddard said.  “Your father asked my permission before courting your mother.  Of course, I already knew him and I knew your mother liked him.  The little minx had dropped plenty of hints that his suit would be welcome to her.”

“How old were my parents when they began to court?” Adam asked nonchalantly, but he didn’t fool his grandfather.

“Let me see.  When he first asked if he could come calling, he was my second mate; I think he was twenty-one then or maybe twenty-two.  Your mother was only seventeen but she was old enough to know her own mind.  Now, I wouldn’t have agreed to her marrying at age seventeen, but a courtship was another matter.  I knew I could trust your father, knew that he would always treat her with respect.  And I knew your mother wouldn’t give me any peace until I did agree he could come calling,” he finished with a grin.

“Pa always said I inherited my stubbornness from Mother,” Adam said with a faint smile.

“Your father was being too generous.  I’m sure you inherited half your stubbornness from him,” the Captain said with a snort.

“That’s what I figured,” Adam replied with a smirk.
 

During the church service Sunday, Adam had difficulty concentrating when the choir sang, and he found his thoughts wandering during the sermon.  Finally the service was over and he began working his way toward the Quincys.  He waited patiently as Mr. Quincy chatted with friends and colleagues but finally he saw his chance.

“Hello, Mr. Quincy,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as nervous as he felt. His palms were sweating profusely he was so nervous at approaching Julia’s father.

“Hello, Cartwright, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir.  Adam Cartwright.  Uh, Mr. Quincy, I wanted to ask for your permission to call on your daughter, Julia.”

Mr. Quincy looked at him appraisingly.  “I need to know you better before I make my decision.  Would you be free to join us for dinner today?”

Adam hesitated for a moment before replying, “My grandfather is expecting me to dine with him, and I wouldn’t want to disappoint him.”

“I understand.  You would be free for supper?”

“Yes, I would,” Adam answered gravely.

“All right, then we’ll look forward to seeing you around seven,” Mr. Quincy said politely.

Adam rejoined his grandfather, who was speaking with Mrs. Baldwin.  “Did he give you permission to call on Julia?” Mrs. Baldwin asked with a twinkle in her eye.  She saw Adam glare at his grandfather and said in a tart voice, “Don’t be sulky.  I forced the Captain to tell me.”  She smiled at him then and asked, “Well, do you have permission?”

“He said he wanted to get to know me better first so I’m to have supper with the Quincys tonight,” Adam replied apprehensively.

“That’s only natural,” Captain Stoddard assured him placing a comforting hand on his shoulder and giving it a squeeze.  “A father always wants to know the young men who are interested in courting his daughter,” and Mrs. Baldwin nodded her head in agreement.

“You have excellent manners, Adam, so you have nothing to be nervous about,” she said encouragingly.

When Adam knocked on the door of the Quincys' impressive townhouse on Beacon Street, the door was answered by a parlor maid who took his hat and escorted him to the drawing room where the rest of the family were gathered.  Adam noted it was a large room, but cluttered with bric-a-brac and the heavy maroon velvet drapes added to the dark, cramped feeling.

“Would you care for a glass of sherry, Mr. Cartwright?” Mr. Quincy asked him.

“No, thank you, sir,” Adam replied and Mr. Quincy motioned for him to take the side chair opposite him.

“Well, Mr. Cartwright, I know you are Abel Stoddard’s grandson and I believe I met your father when he and Captain Stoddard were partners in the chandlery.”

“And I knew your mother,” Mrs. Quincy interjected.

“But we would like to know more about your life in ¼Well, in the west.”

“My father owns a ranch in Western Utah by the shores of Lake Bigler.  We raise cattle and sell them across the Sierras in Placerville.  We have lots of timber on our land and, just recently, we’ve begun doing some logging.  I think that operation will probably expand in the future.”

“I assumed your father must be doing well if he could afford to send you to Harvard,” Mr. Quincy commented.

“He must miss you very much,” Julia’s younger sister, Hannah, added.

“I know he does, but he has my two younger brothers to look after,” Adam replied.

“Oh, your father remarried?” Mrs. Quincy queried.

“Yes ma’am.  He remarried when I was around five and my brother, Eric, was born the next year.”  (Adam knew instinctively that the Quincys would find his brother’s nickname very odd, so he decided not to mention it.)  “My stepmother was killed in an Indian raid while we were traveling west, and so for several years it was just the three of us.”

“Your father raised two small boys on his own?” Mrs. Quincy said in surprise, her eyebrows nearly reaching her hairline.

“Yes, my father pretty much raised us on his own.  At least until I was twelve.  He came back from a trip to New Orleans with a new stepmother for Eric and me.  Eric was thrilled.  I wasn’t.  But she was very patient with me.  She was the mother of my youngest brother, Joseph.”

“Was?” Mrs. Quincy asked.

“About three months before I came to Harvard, she died in a riding accident.”  Adam’s voice was a little unsteady and he took a deep breath.  “I wasn’t going to come because I thought my family needed me there, but my father convinced me that I should come because my stepmother had wanted me to attend college.”  He paused to collect himself before continuing.  “My going was hard on Joe.  He was not quite five and he was afraid I wasn’t coming back—like his mother.  Eric misses me, too, but at least he understands.”

“But what is the point of a college education if you are going to return to a ranch in the middle of a wilderness?” Mr. Quincy inquired in what Adam thought was a supercilious tone.

“The science and mathematics I am learning have many practical uses on a spread like ours,” Adam answered very earnestly.  “I should be able to design bridges and flumes, for instance, that would be invaluable in our expanding timber operation.  I would like to design a new house for us.  Right now, we are still living in the cabin my father first built, although we’ve added some additional rooms.”  He reined in his enthusiasm then, not wishing to appear gauche.

“Do you attend concerts and the theater?  Or the opera?” Julia asked, speaking up for the first time.

“We have to travel to across the Sierras to Sacramento or San Francisco for those, I’m afraid.  However, as more settlers arrive I’m certain we’ll have those things eventually,” he replied a little apologetically.

Just then the maid announced that supper was served, but once they were eating, Mr. Quincy resumed his interrogation.  “Just how many towns are there on your side of the mountains, Mr. Cartwright?”

“There’s Mormon Station, Mottsville and Eagle Station,” Adam replied a little defensively.  “My father wrote me that the Carson Valley now has about 200 permanent residents.  What with the gold strike in California and the land we got after the war with Mexico, more and more people are settling in the valley.”

“I mean no offense, but coming from that environment, I am surprised that you were able to pass the entrance examinations for Harvard,” Mr. Quincy commented contumeliously.

Adam had to bite back a scathing reply, reminding himself how important it was that he make a good impression on Julia’s father.  “My parents taught me at home and I spent a year in San Francisco staying with some family friends being tutored to prepare me for the entrance examinations,” he replied evenly.

Mrs. Quincy apparently decided she’d heard enough about Western Utah and decided to change the topic.  “I notice that you’ve joined the church choir.  Are you musically inclined?”

“I love to sing and while I was living in San Francisco I took singing lessons.  I also play the guitar.”

“Julia plays the piano.  Perhaps after supper she could accompany you and you could sing for us,” Mrs. Quincy suggested.

“Y-yes, if you’d like, ma’am,” Adam managed to get out while his stomach began to churn.

Julia sensed his discomfort and steered the conversation to his experiences at college and Adam began to relax again until the meal was over and Mrs. Quincy asked them all to adjourn to the music room.

“Let’s look at the music and see if we can find anything,” Julia said with a smile, and their fingers just happened to brush more than once as they scanned the sheet music.  “How about Early One Morning?” Adam suggested and she nodded.

Adam closed his eyes, remembering the happy evenings his family had spent singing together, before beginning.  He was surprised when the song ended to hear applause.  “That was beautiful, Adam,” Julia said with shining eyes and her mother and sister added their praise.

“I hope you’ll sing us another,” Mrs. Quincy suggested.

“Do you know Drink to Me Only with Thine Eyes?” Adam asked and Julia nodded.  He was a little self-conscious singing a love song, but he had practiced it many times with his music teacher and knew he could sing it well, and again, his performance was greeted with applause.

“It’s clear you are a young man of many talents, Mr. Cartwright,” Mr. Quincy said after his womenfolk had finished complimenting Adam.  “If you wish to call on Julia here, you have my permission.”

“I was hoping to take her to the performance of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony in two weeks,” Adam said cautiously.

“We were planning on attending and you are welcome to join us,” Mr. Quincy replied.

Adam gave a small sigh and then said politely, “Thank you very much for the invitation.  I would be happy to be part of your party.”
 

“Well, Mr. Cartwright—or may I call you Adam?” Mrs. Quincy began the next Sunday when Adam called and was shown into the drawing room.  He was relieved that Mr. Quincy was absent and only Julia’s mother was there to chaperone.

“Adam, please, ma’am,” he replied seriously.

“Well, Adam, you were telling us that you have two younger brothers.  I imagine you must miss them.”

“Yes, I do.  Very much.”

“Why don’t you tell us something about them.  That would help us get to know you better.”

“Very well,” he replied then paused for a moment considering where to begin.  “Eric is six years younger than I am and I remember the day that he was born vividly.  We were traveling west to Oregon in a wagon train.  Mama had gotten so big that everyone was saying she must be carrying twins.”  He saw Julia’s cheeks turn pink at that so he hurried on.  “We’d camped for the night and Pa had gone somewhere—I don’t remember where or why—when Mama asked me to go get Mrs. Simon.  (That was another woman on the train.)  I ran over to the Simon’s wagon and Mrs. Simon told me to tell Mr. Simon that she would be with Mama and he’d need to fix supper and I was to help him.  It turned out that I knew more about cooking supper over a campfire than Mr. Simon,” and he smiled a little remembering.

“But you were only six,” Julia interrupted.  “How could you know about cooking?”

He smiled at her to show he was not offended by her question.  “I knew because Pa and I had been traveling west ever since I could remember.  Much of the time we’d camped out and I’d watched Pa cook food over our campfire.  Mind you, he wasn’t a very good cook, but from watching him I knew how to mix up johnnycakes and fry them and how to cook beans and fry salt pork.  Between the two of us, Mr. Simon and I managed.  I was surprised when he said we should go ahead and eat without waiting for Mrs. Simon, but he said we’d save some supper for her and for Mama, and Pa, too, when he got back.  After we finished eating, I wanted to go back to our wagon, but Mr. Simon said he needed me to help feed and water his oxen and ours.  When we finished, I started to run back to our wagon but Mr. Simon grabbed hold of me.  ‘Adam, you gotta stay here with me.  Your little brother or sister is being born, and that’s no place for us men,’ he said.

“I remember being surprised then and more determined than ever to go to Mama, but I couldn’t break free of his hold.  ‘Adam,’ he told me, ‘I’m tellin’ you, birthin’ babies is women’s work.  They don’t want any menfolk around.’  It was starting to get dark then and he told me I could wait up until the baby was born.  We sat around the campfire and some of the other men joined us and they told me stories.  It seemed like forever before Mrs. Simon ran over and asked where Pa was.  When she heard Pa wasn’t around, she turned to me with a big smile and asked if I’d like to come see my baby brother.  I ran over to the wagon and there was Mama lying on the mattress in the wagon and she was holding something all wrapped up in a little blanket.  Now, I’d seen a couple of babies as Pa and I had traveled west, but they were no where near as big as the baby Mama was holding We didn’t have anything to weigh him with accurately, but all the women said he weighed over ten pounds.”

Mrs. Quincy’s mouth dropped open at that.  “Over ten pounds!  My word!  And she was all right?”

“Yes, ma’am.  Mama was tall; I remember she was almost as tall as Pa, but slender.  At least she was when I first knew her.  Her brother, Gunnar, was a big man and she said her father had been over six feet tall.  She told us that big babies ran in her family even if they weren’t quite as big as Ho, uh, Eric.  He was a happy baby, only cried when he was hungry or needed to be changed.  Quite different from Joe.”

“That’s your younger brother?” Julia asked.

He smiled warmly at her.  “Yes.  Now, I’m twelve—almost thirteen—years older than Joe so we have a different relationship.  After my memories of Eric as a baby, Joe seemed really tiny, but I guess he was really pretty much average.  His mother, Marie, was small and slender and Joe takes after her so I doubt he’ll grow to be as tall as Eric and I are.”

“Your mother was very petite,” Mrs. Quincy interjected.

“That’s what Grandfather said, that she didn’t stand any higher than Pa’s shoulder, so she must have been even smaller than Marie.  I take after Pa that way but he and Grandfather say I favor my mother.”

“Yes, you do,” Mrs. Quincy agreed quietly.  “She and I weren’t as close as she was to Mrs. Baldwin, but we were friends.  You do resemble her, especially your eyes and your mouth.”  Adam dimpled at that and she added with a smile, “I see you also inherited her dimples.”

“Tell us more about Joe,” Julia requested, feeling a bit left out and after all it was she Adam had come to visit.

“As I mentioned, Ho, um, Eric is very easygoing.  Well, Joe is pretty much the opposite.  When he is happy, there is no one happier, and when he is sad or angry, there is no one sadder or angrier.  He’s quick-tempered, which Eric and I aren’t.  Of course, he and Eric both get over their anger quickly.”

“And you don’t?” Julia asked hesitantly and Adam was furious with himself for his indiscretion.

“Not as quickly as they do,” he admitted reluctantly.

Mrs. Quincy sensed his discomfort and moved to change the subject.  “Tell us, since you each have different mothers, do the three of you resemble each other?”

“No, ma’am,” Adam replied gratefully.  “Joe and I each favor our mothers.  We both have curly hair, but Joe’s is blond like his mother’s.  He has his mother’s green eyes just as I inherited my mother’s eyes.  Pa says that Mama thought Eric was going to look like her father.  He is definitely going to be the biggest of us.”

“But you’re tall,” Julia protested for his height and his build were two of the attributes that attracted her to him.

“Yes, but Eric is going to be taller.  He’s only twelve, almost thirteen now, but he writes that the last time Pa measured him he was already 5’ 6”.  He’s grown a whole inch since I’ve been gone.”

“Oh my,” Mrs. Quincy said.  “He is a big boy.”  She looked thoughtful before asking, “Adam, I know it must have been a lot of work doing the cooking and cleaning for your family.  Did your stepmother have help?

“We have a cook, Hop Sing.  He helped my stepmother with the cleaning and cooking and he did the laundry.  Now he does it all plus looking after Joe. Our cabin’s not that big: just a kitchen, what my stepmother called her parlor, and two bedrooms.  Oh, and the washhouse is built off the kitchen.”

“How rustic,” Mrs. Quincy said with a slight shudder.

“As I mentioned, when I return, I hope to design and build a house—one large enough that each of us can have his own bedroom—and a dining room and a great room with an enormous fireplace.”

“It sounds as though you’ve already been giving it some thought,” Julia said quietly.

“I have,” Adam replied with a faint smile.  “I wanted to study architecture, but you have to go to Europe for that.  However, I think I can use what I learn about engineering and apply it to designing a house.”

“What sort of a name is Hop Sing?” Mrs. Quincy asked.  “Most servants here are Irish, but I know that’s not an Irish name.”

“Hop Sing is Chinese,” Adam answered and was disturbed by the disdain he saw on her face.  “He is a very special man.  Why, if he hadn’t been there to help me after my stepmother died—“  He stopped abruptly.

“I didn’t mean to cause offense,” Mrs. Quincy said stiffly.

“Harriet Winston said you told her that life on the frontier is dull,” Julia interjected.

“That’s not exactly what I said,” Adam contradicted gently.  “She seemed to feel that my family and I spent all our time fighting hostile Indians, and that’s not the case.  I tried to explain that much of our life is routine and our struggle is really with Nature, rather than the Indians.  When winter comes, wolves and mountain lions come down out of the mountains and go after our cattle.  Even though we cut hay to feed the cattle during the winter, we still lose some to the freezing temperatures and the snow.  In the spring we sometimes loose a few head during thunderstorms.  Other times we lose cattle to disease.  Winters are long and cold in the high country and we may be snowed in for weeks at a time so we have to make sure we have plenty of firewood cut and plenty of supplies before the first winter storms or we risk freezing or starving to death.”

“You make it sound so grim. I can’t imagine why you’d want to go back,” Julia said curiously.

Adam sighed.  “I guess I’ve overemphasized the harsher aspects.  There are advantages and disadvantages to living on the frontier just as there are in a city like Boston.”

“What disadvantage is there living in Boston?” Julia scoffed.

“Too many people living too close together.  The air is filthy because of all the smoke from chimneys, it’s too noisy, and it’s easier for diseases to spread,” Adam answered evenly.

The Quincys looked taken aback.  “I suppose you’re correct about the air and disease.  But it’s not that noisy,” Julia protested.

“You only say that because you’ve lived here all your life.  Trust me, it’s noisy.

“All right,” Julia said, but it was clear she was unconvinced.

“There is one other disadvantage and I hope you aren’t offended if I mention it.”

“Please,” Mrs. Quincy said.

“People’s manners here in Boston seem artificial.  Back home, if someone has something bad to say about you, they say it to your face and not behind your back.”

Adam saw that both the Quincys were not pleased with this comment.  “Tell me some advantages of living on the frontier,” Julia commanded.

“First, you are surrounded by beauty.  Oh, I know Boston is beautiful,” he added seeing the protest in Julia’s eyes, “but it’s a man-made beauty and on the frontier you can see the beauty God created.  There is just no comparison.  Our lakes are as clear and blue as the sky above.  The mountains, reaching up to touch the sky, have a grandeur, a majesty, that no edifice can match, no matter how beautiful.  Then there are the ponderosa pines our ranch is named for.  They stretch proud and tall against the sky.  Many have been there for hundreds of years.

“Our air is healthy and invigorating, just the opposite of what you find in a city.  I like the fact that I can step outside and not see my neighbors, but I concede to some that would be a disadvantage,” he added with just a hint of a smile quirking his lips.  “I think we on the frontier are more independent, more self-reliant.  It’s probably because our neighbors are few and far between that if something bad happens to one of us, the rest all pitch in and help.  Of course, the biggest advantage, for me, is the Ponderosa is where my family is.”

“You said you have to travel over the mountains to attend a play or an opera, so what do you do for entertainment?” Julia inquired.

“At the end of the day after all the chores are done is my chance to read.  Books are harder to come by—a disadvantage of life on the frontier—but I read my favorites again and again.  On moonlit nights I like to go for a ride on Beauty, my mare.”  His mouth curved up in an impish grin.  “I have to sneak out so Pa doesn’t know because he’d forbid me.”  Mrs. Quincy shook her head at him but Julia smiled.  “When my stepmother was alive we’d sing.  She and I both play the guitar.”  His expression became somber.  “Since she died, we haven’t done any singing.”

“Do you have balls?” Julia asked eagerly.

“No,” he said regretfully.  “But on the Fourth of July everyone from miles round gathers at Mormon Station—that’s our biggest settlement—and we have some dancing.  Problem is, there about four men to every woman so some of the men have to dance together.”  Both women giggled at that.

Just then there was a soft knock and Mrs. Quincy called, “Yes?”  The parlor maid entered pushing a small cart.

“I brought tea, ma’am,” she said in a pronounced Irish accent.

“Thank you, Bridget,” Mrs. Quincy said and the young woman curtseyed and left.  As they drank their tea and ate dainty cakes the conversation moved to happenings in Boston.
 

“Mail from Massachusetts, Boss,” Will Reagan, the ranch foreman, called as he walked in the front door.  Hop Sing came in from the kitchen where he’d been working on the week’s baking followed by a flour-covered Joe.

“Mr. Cartwright not back for dinner yet,” Hop Sing said and Joe immediately piped up saying, “Is there a letter from Adam, Mr. Reagan?”

“Yup.  One for your pa, one for your brother, and this one here’s addressed to Master Joseph Cartwright,” he said holding out a letter.

“Thanks, Mr. Reagan,” Joe said snatching the letter and ripping it open.

“Wait ‘til father come home,” Hop Sing said reaching to take the letter.

“No, it’s mine.  Adam wrote it to me,” Joe replied stamping his foot and clutching the letter to his chest.

“But you need your pa to read it to you,” Reagan said kindly.

“No, I don’t.  I can read good.  I can read it myself,” Joe said indignantly.  He went and climbed on the Windsor settee and unfolded the piece of paper staring at the unfamiliar cursive writing.  He looked at the bottom and saw where Adam had signed his name.  He knew how Adam’s name was spelled so he knew what those three letters looked like and he was sure he could figure out the rest.

Ben came in a few minutes later to find his youngest sitting on the settee staring at a piece of paper, his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth as he concentrated.  Ben peered over his shoulder and recognized Adam’s familiar neat handwriting.

“Joseph, did you open Adam’s letter?” he barked causing Joe to jump.

“It’s my letter, Pa, that Adam wrote me. I wanted to read it myself, but this writin’s funny.  I can’t read nuthin ‘cept Adam’s name,” he said looking perplexed.

“You’re used to reading printing, but Adam writes in cursive,” Ben explained.  “But, Joseph,” he said sternly, “you know we always read Adam’s letters together.  You should have waited.”

“But it was mine, Pa,” Joe whined.  “Adam wrote it to me.”

Ben sighed.  He couldn’t refute that logic.  “All right, but in the future remember that we read Adam’s letters together.”  Joe nodded reluctantly so he asked, “Would you like Pa to read the letter to you?”  Joe nodded vigorously so that his curls bounced, and Ben sat down and let the six-year-old climb up in his lap.
 
 

 — 1855

Dear Joe,

I am so glad that you like your soldiers.  I had fun choosing them for you.  We’ve had lots of snow here in Cambridge and Boston so after lessons we have snowball fights and Aaron, Thomas and I built a really tall snowman.

Pa writes me you are doing very well with your lessons.  I’m doing well with my lessons, too.  My two favorite classes are trigonometry and astronomy.  At night our class looks at the stars and planets through a telescope at the observatory and I’ve seen the rings around Saturn and Jupiter, the largest planet in our solar system.  When I get home, Little Buddy, I’ll show you all the constellations we can see just with our eyes.  I remember when I was your age, Pa showed me the North Star and told me how sailors use it to help them navigate on the ocean and how he used it to guide us as we traveled west.  I’ll bet he’d show you, too, if you asked him.

“Would you, Pa?  Would you show me?” Joe interrupted.

“Of course, I would.  I’ll show you tonight,” Ben said with a smile, remembering Adam’s serious face when he had shown him, drinking in his explanation the way a sponge soaks up liquid.  “Right now, let’s finish Adam’s letter,” and Joe nodded
 

I am going to the symphony tomorrow night to hear Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony.  Being able to attend symphonies and concerts is something I am really going to miss when I come home.  Of course, now I miss being able to ride and I miss Beauty.  Aaron and I run and we are learning gymnastics and boxing at a gymnasium in Boston since the College doesn’t have one.  (I know Pa is reading this letter to you, so let me assure him that Aaron and I box under the tutelage of an excellent teacher. We also lift weights to build up our muscles.)

“What’s Adam mean about building up his muscles?” Joe asked.

“Well, he and Aaron aren’t doing all the hard, physical work they did at home and that work is what made their bodies strong. I’m glad your brother remembers it’s as important to exercise his body as his mind.”

“Is that all?” Joe asked.

“No.  Adam wrote a little more,” Ben answered with a smile.
 

I guess that’s all I have to write. I miss you, Little Buddy.

Affectionately yours,
Adam

“Now can we read your letter?” Joe asked hopefully.

“No, we’ll wait until after supper when Hoss will be here.  Right now, we need to get washed up for dinner.”  As if on cue, Hop Sing walked in announcing that dinner was ready.

When Hoss came home and learned that Joe had already read his letter he muttered angrily, “It ain’t fair.  If I didn’t have to go to school, I coulda read my letter.”

“Hoss,” Ben remonstrated gently.  “Joe knows he was wrong not to wait and he won’t do it again.  Will you, Joe?”

Joe stuck out his lower lip in a pout but he grudgingly nodded.

“You can read your letter first, how about that?” Ben asked with a smile.

“Okay,” Hoss replied but Ben could see he wasn’t totally mollified.  “Let’s eat fast.”

After supper the three Cartwrights and Hop Sing gathered around the fireplace and Hoss carefully opened his letter and unfolded it.
 
 

— 1855

Dear Hoss,

That’s wonderful news about Beauty.  I’m sure glad to know she’s all right and the foal, too.  So he has an appetite to match yours, huh?  I think Chubby is the perfect name for him then.  I sure miss Beauty and being able to ride.  You give her an apple every day and tell her it’s from me.

I am still spending my weekends in Boston, but Saturday afternoons I call on Julia Quincy and her family.  I’d rather just call on Julia but her mother is always there to chaperone.  I don’t mind too much.  Mrs. Quincy was a friend of my mother’s and she’s told me a few stories about Mother when she was a girl.  The daughter of a free Negro was enrolled in their school and some of the other girls wouldn’t have anything to do with her, or said nasty things right to her face.   Mother invited her to take the seat by her and she and Mrs. Baldwin always asked her to eat her dinner with them even though it meant some of the girls then said spiteful things to them.  It made me proud to hear that story.  Mrs. Quincy also told me that Mother was sweet on Pa right from the first time Grandfather brought him home to dinner and she made up her mind he was the man she wanted to marry.

Hoss looked up then and saw his father was smiling and Hoss smiled back before returning to Adam’s letter.
 

I’m sorry you aren’t enjoying school.  I guess you and I are always going to be different that way, Little Brother.  You can’t understand how I can enjoy studying and it’s hard for me to understand anyone not enjoying it.  But you shouldn’t think that you are a disappointment to Pa, Hoss.  As long as you do your best, Pa is proud of you. ...

Hoss stopped reading then, feeling Ben squeezing his shoulder comfortingly.  “Adam is right, Hoss.  I don’t expect you to be a scholar like him; I just want you to do the best that you can.  I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you feel that I wasn’t proud of you.”

“No, you never did, Pa,” Hoss said earnestly, his cheeks reddening.  “It’s just that Adam is so smart and I was afraid you was disappointed that I’m not like him and I wrote an’ told Adam so.”

“You just remember that no one expects you to be like your older brother.  You each have your own gifts and I love you equally.”  Ben paused.  “It’s like the scriptures that we read last Sunday, where Paul writes, ‘If the whole body were an eye, where were the hearing? If the whole were hearing, where were the smelling?  But now hath God set the members every one of them in the body as it hath pleased him.’”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Hoss said slowly while Joe squirmed restlessly, bored with the conversation.

“Paul is using the parts of the body to explain how God gives each one of us different gifts.  Each part of the body is important and has its function, and each gift or talent God gives us is equally valuable to Him.”

“So Adam’s an eye and I’m an ear?” Hoss said, his countenance brightening.

“I think you have the idea, son,” Ben replied with a smile while Joe said indignantly, “Hoss you ain’t no ear!  And Adam ain’t no eye!”

“You’re right, Joe,” Ben said chuckling and ruffling his curls.  “Why don’t you finish Adam’s letter, Hoss.”
 

Tonight I am going to hear Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony with the Quincys.  (I wanted to take Julia, but Mr. Quincy just invited me to come with them.  I sure hope I get to sit by Julia.)

I guess that’s all for now.  Take care of yourself.

Affectionately yours,
Adam

“Now you read yours, Pa,” Joe commanded so Ben opened his letter and began to read aloud.
 
 

— 1855

Dear Pa,
I had a wonderful time at the ball.  I danced twice with Julia. I did remember to ask the girls no one else asked to dance.  Maybe they weren’t as pretty as Julia, but with one exception I enjoyed dancing with them.  The first girl I asked was named Elsie Wilder.  After I asked her, Aaron did.  Now, he likes Elsie as much as I like Julia.  I asked Julia if I could call on her and she said yes, if I obtained her father’s permission.   I spoke with Mr. Quincy and he has given me permission to call on Julia.  When I first asked, he said he needed to know me better and invited me to supper.  He really interrogated me, but I guess I passed muster.  I was already nervous and then Mrs. Quincy asked me to sing for them, which made me even more nervous.  Julia accompanied me on the piano and she and her mother and sister told me that they liked my singing.  (I don’t know if Mr. Quincy did.)  I was hoping to take Julia to a concert but so far Mr. Quincy has only given me permission to call on her at their house.  At least he invited me to attend the concert with them, and I sat next to Julia and she let me hold her hand. ...

“Adam sure is writin’ a lot about this Julia.  D’ya think he’s sweet on her, Pa?” Hoss interrupted frowning.

“It does sound that way,” Ben answered.  “But it’s probably just calf-love,” he added, as much to convince himself as Hoss, and he continued reading.
 

I enjoyed the symphony so much.  The music was simply sublime, especially the chorus in the last movement.  The Quincys have invited me to attend a production of “The Marriage of Figaro” next Saturday night and I am looking forward to it with great anticipation.  Julia has already seen one production and she says it is her favorite opera.

She is so beautiful, Pa, and she’s very accomplished.  She plays the piano beautifully; she sketches and embroiders.  She enjoys reading novels and has recommended two: Jane Eyre and Vanity Fair.  I have borrowed Vanity Fair from the library and am reading it so we can discuss it when I call next.  I am enjoying Thackary’s satire and his excellent characterizations.

I’d better close now so I can get to work on my studies.

Affectionately yours,
Adam

P.S.  I’ve grown since I’ve been here, and I’m now three-quarters of an inch taller than you are, Pa.

“Adam’s taller than you?” Joe repeated.

“I’m not surprised,” Ben replied.  “He was as tall as I am when he left, and I knew he hadn’t stopped growing.”

“I forgot to tell Adam I grew another quarter of an inch,” Hoss said proudly.  “D’ ya still think I’ll grow to be taller ‘n’ Adam?”

“You’re definitely going to be the biggest Cartwright, Hoss.  There’s no doubt of that.  Your older brother was only 5’ when he was your age.”

“No, I’m gonna be the biggest!” Joe cried, jumping to his feet so he stood higher than the rest.

“Naw, punkin, you might grow as big as Adam, but ya ain’t gonna be bigger than me,” Hoss said with a grin.

“Yes, I will!” Joe shouted, stamping his foot on the wooden settee.

“Joseph, sit down and get your feet off the furniture,” Ben commanded and still scowling, Joe complied.
 
 
 
 

One morning in early April as Adam, Aaron and Thomas were leaving the Common after dinner, Fred Thompkins approached them.  “Have any of you played baseball?” he asked hopefully.

“I have,” Thomas said with a grin and Aaron added, “Me, too.”

“Well, Mike Browne and I are trying to form a couple of teams to play each other.  And we’re going to see if there are any teams in town we could play,” Fred said enthusiastically.  “Would you be interested?’

“Sure,” Aaron and Thomas replied eagerly.

“What about you, Cartwright?” Fred asked.  “Even if you’ve never played before, it’s easy to learn and fun.”

“You’ll like it, Adam, and Aaron and I can show you how to play,” Thomas added.

Adam shrugged.  “Sure, I’ll play.”

“That’s great.  I’ll let you three know the details once Mike and I get them worked out,” Fred said happily.

“You know, it’s too beautiful an afternoon to waste studying,” Thomas said.  “Let’s change and then go over to the Delta and we can show Adam the basics.”  The other two agreed readily. There had been so many rainy days the past two weeks that it did seem a crime to waste a beautiful sunny day inside studying. “Fred, do you by any chance have a ball and a bat you could loan us?”

“Sure,” Fred replied with a grin.  “They’re in my wardrobe.  Help yourselves,” and he walked off whistling.

“All right, Adam,” Thomas said as the three of them met at the Delta after having changed out of their frock coats and white linen dress shirts into calico work shirts.  (Adam changed into the canvas pants he’d bought in San Francisco from Levi Strauss & Co., thinking they’d be more suitable than trousers made of broadcloth.)  “The object of the game is to be the first team to score one hundred tallies and a tally is a run scored after the runner has touched all four bases and a Thrower without being plugged.”

“Plugged means you’re hit by a ball thrown by someone on the opposite team, a basetender or a scout” Aaron interjected.

“Let’s start by practicing throwing and catching the ball,” Thomas suggested and they spread themselves out and began throwing the ball back and forth.  “You’ve got a good arm,” Thomas told Adam.  “I think you’ll make an excellent Thrower.”

“I do, too,” Aaron agreed.  “Why don’t we take turns as Striker so he can practice throwing.”

“Good idea,” said Thomas.  “All right, Adam, the idea is that you as the Thrower stand thirty-five feet from the Striker and you throw the ball to the Striker, on whichever side he tells you, and it must be within the reach of his bat.”

“I’ll be the first Striker,” Aaron said.  “I borrowed a stake from Fred that we’ll use for fourth base.” Adam and Thomas watched as Aaron pounded the stake in the ground until it was about four feet high.  “Now, Adam, you need to pace off thirty-five feet in a parallel line from the base.”

Adam paced off the distance and then called, “Are you ready?”

“No, wait,” Thomas hollered.  “I’m going to be the Catcher so I have to get behind Aaron.  I’ll signal when I’m in position and then you can throw.”

“Throw on the right side,” Aaron yelled.

Adam’s first throw would have hit Aaron in the head, except he jumped out of the way.  “I thought we were friends, Adam!” he yelled but Adam saw him grin.  “Not bad for the first time; but you don’t want to throw it so close to the Striker,” he called as Thomas threw the ball back to Adam.  They let Adam practice throwing for about a half-hour and then Thomas threw so Adam could have a chance to practice striking.  He hit the very first ball thrown to him, but Thomas ran backward and caught it before it hit the ground.

“If we were playing a game, you would be out since Thomas caught the ball.  The basetenders and scouts will try to get the Striker out by catching a ball he’s knocked,” Aaron explained.

Thomas joined them and said, “I think that’s probably enough for today.  We don’t want to get too sore.  If it’s nice tomorrow, do we want to meet here again?” and the other two agreed.

Adam began to get a better idea of how the game was played when the two teams made up of freshmen and sophomores began to practice.  He practiced throwing with Aaron or Thomas whenever they had free time and he really improved.  Aaron was one of the best Strikers on their team and he was a good basetender when they were in the field while Thomas was a scout.  On one of his Sunday afternoon visits, Adam mentioned to the Quincys that he was a member of a baseball team some underclassmen had formed and their first match, which was against a Cambridge team, was scheduled for the following Saturday afternoon.

“Could we go see Adam play?” Julia asked and Hannah said excitedly, “Please, Papa.  It would be fun.”

“I think it is an excellent idea,” Mr. Quincy replied with a smile.  “I used to play baseball when I was a lad and enjoyed it very much.  We’ll be there to cheer you and your team on, Cartwright.”
 

The day of the first match was a bit overcast, but all the young men were hoping that if there were any rain, it would wait until after the game.  Adam and Aaron were especially wound up because Julia and Elsie and their families were going to be watching the game, and they wanted to impress them with their athletic prowess.  Adam was scheduled to be the Thrower for his team so he knew he must concentrate on the game, and once it began, he gave it all his attention.  He didn’t forget Julia was watching; he just put that thought at the back of his mind.  He threw the ball as hard as he could, wishing the rules allowed him to throw overhand so he could throw harder and faster.  He struck out the first Striker but the second made it to first base. Thomas caught the ball hit by the third Striker so they only needed one more out, and Fred provided that by plugging a runner on first base as he ran for second.

The Harvard team managed to score five tallies in the first inning while the Cambridge team had none.  By this time there was a gentle rain falling, but not enough to stop the game.  By the fifth inning the rain had slacked off and the Harvard team led 50 to 35.  Adam’s arm was growing tired and in the sixth inning the Cambridge team scored 15 runs, tying the score.

“Adam, we need to replace you,” Fred said as their team moved off the field.  “You did a good job for an inexperienced Thrower, but I can see your arm is tired and you aren’t throwing as accurately or as fast.”

“Yeah,” Adam said, trying to hide his disappointment, but he knew it was better for the team if he was replaced.  He scored a tally when he was at bat, but then he had to watch the rest of the game as a spectator.  His team won, 100 to 90, and his personal disappointment was forgotten in the excitement of his team’s victory.

“Good game, lad!” his grandfather called, coming over to greet him while the Harvard boys were thumping each other on the back, their faces split by huge grins.

“Adam’s a good thrower and he’ll only get better with experience, sir,” Fred said with a friendly grin.  “You coming, Adam?”

“In just a minute,” Adam replied.  “Go on; I’ll catch up.”  He turned to the Captain.  “We’re all going to celebrate with a few beers.  So you enjoyed the game?”

“I did.  Glad I brought my umbrella with me.”

“I hope you don’t get a chill,” Adam said worriedly.

“I’ll be fine, lad.  When you come Saturday, you’ll have to explain the finer points of this game to me.”

“I’ll be happy to,” Adam grinned.  “See you on Saturday.”  He started to run to catch up with his friends when he heard his name.  Surprised, he turned around and saw Mr. Quincy.
“Just wanted to congratulate you, my boy,” Mr. Quincy said, his expression friendlier than Adam had ever seen before.

“I’m glad you enjoyed the game, sir.  I thought perhaps when it began to rain ¼”

“I sent the women home, but I stayed.  Hadn’t seen a game in years, forgotten how much I enjoyed them.”  He paused and then said warmly, “Congratulations on your victory.”
 

It was time for the spring roundup and all three Cartwrights were unhappy.  Initially, Hoss had been delighted when Ben had told him that he didn’t have to attend school during the roundup, partly because he was always glad to miss school but even more because he thought he would be a part of the roundup.  He was bitterly disappointed when he learned he was only staying home so Joe wouldn’t be alone.

Joe was miserable and frightened.  Mama had gone away to heaven and she would never come back.  Then Adam went away.  He and Pa both said he’d be back, but he’d been gone a long, long time and Joe was beginning to doubt he’d ever return.  Now Pa was going away and Joe was terrified that he’d lose him as well.

By the morning Ben left on the roundup, Hoss’s naturally sunny nature had overcome his surliness but Joe cried as though his heart was broken, begging and pleading with Ben not to go.

“Joe, Papa will be back,” Ben said gently as he held the frightened little boy in his arms, rubbing soothing circles on his back.  “I’ve been away on roundup before, and you know I always come back.  Hoss is going to be staying here with you to play with you, and Hop Sing is here.  I’ve even asked Mr. McKaren to stop by and check on you and Hoss since he and Todd are back from their roundup.  He’s going to get our mail when he goes for his own, and if we get any letters from Adam, Hoss has my permission to read them—even the one addressed to me.”

“How about that, punkin?  We can read Adam’s letters before Pa,” Hoss said smiling encouragingly at his baby brother.

“Now, can you be a big boy for Papa and for your brother?” Ben asked, taking Joe’s chin between his thumb and forefinger and turning his face to his.

Joe sniffed and scrubbed at his eyes.  “’Kay, Papa,” he said in a quivering voice and Ben sat him on his feet and Joe grabbed for Hoss’s hand.

“Hey, punkin,” Hoss said as Ben rode out of sight, “how’d you like to learn how to play checkers?  Adam taught me to play when I was ‘bout your age, and now I can teach you.”

“Okay,’ Joe replied, his expression brightening a little.
 

The second time Andy McKaren and Todd stopped by the Ponderosa, they brought three letters.

“Are they from Adam?” Joe asked eagerly, jumping up and down in excitement.

“Well, I can’t think who else in Cambridge, Massachusetts, would be writing to Master Joseph Cartwright,” Andy said tousling Joe’s curls while Todd reached down and began to tickle him so he giggled hysterically.

When Todd stopped tickling Joe, Andy said, “I don’t suppose you’d let us stay while you read Adam’s letters?  We’d like to hear how he’s doing, wouldn’t we Todd?” and Todd nodded.

“Sure, Mr. McKaren,” Hoss replied with an enormous grin.  “Let’s sit on the porch, all right?”

Hop Sing had come into the yard when they heard the McKarens ride up and said, “I bring pitcher of milk and cookies.”

“Thanks, Hop Sing,” Todd said grinning.  Hop Sing’s cooking was ten times better than his or his father’s.  “Sugar cookies?” and the cook nodded his head.

“I won’t start readin’ until yer ready,” Hoss called after him.

“Open mine first, Hoss.  Open mine!” Little Joe commanded.

“Okay, I’ll read yers first,” Hoss replied with a smile as Hop Sing brought out a tray with the milk and a plateful of cookies, plus a cup of coffee for Andy. After everyone was situated on the Cartwrights’ front porch—Andy, Todd and Hoss sat on the bench Ben and Adam had made while Joe perched on the rail and Hop Sing stood by Joe—Hoss cleared his throat and self-consciously began to read.
 

— 1855

Dear Joe,

It’s springtime here in Cambridge.  The buttercups and the Queen Anne’s lace are blooming.  I think you’ll get this letter about the time Pa will be gone on spring roundup.  I know you’ll miss him, Little Buddy, but he’ll be back before you know it.  You be sure and give him a hug for me, okay?

I hope you are studying hard just as I am.  I have to admit I am not enjoying English grammar as much as I did English literature.  Trigonometry is fascinating though and so is astronomy.  Did you know that people used to think the sun revolved around the earth?  That’s why in the story I read you the boy drove the sun chariot across the sky; they thought the sun moved across the sky while really the earth is rotating as it revolves around the sun.

Hoss stopped then.  “Do you understand what he’s writin’, Mr. McKaren?”

Andy smiled at him.  “I think so.  Since the sun always rises in the east and sets in the west, people used to think it was moving.  Really, it was the earth that was moving, rotating or turning around the sun.  When the earth is turned toward the sun, then we have day and when it’s turned away, then it’s night.”

“But we ain’t movin’, Mr. McKaren,” Joe said belligerently.

“We don’t feel it, Little Joe, but we’re moving,” Todd said quietly.  “A man named Galileo proved it.  I remember Adam told Ross and me last summer before he went to Harvard.  There’s other planets—Mars, Venus and I forget who else—and they all revolve around the sun and while they revolve they turn.  Here, I’ll show you.  You go stand over there and be the sun; I will be a planet.”

Joe stood expectantly and giggled as Todd walked around him in a circle, slowly turning around as he walked.  “When I’m facing you, it’s day and when I turn away from you, it’s night.  See?”

“I wanna be a planet!” Joe shouted in excitement.

“Okay, we’ll switch,” Todd said with a smile, but it wasn’t long before the “planet” began to stagger dizzily.

“That enough,” Hop Sing said and Andy added, “That’s right, boys.  We get the idea.”

Reluctantly Joe staggered over to the porch while Hoss said in a puzzled voice, “Shore beats me why we ain’t all dizzy with that turnin’.”

“I know what you mean, Hoss,” Andy said, “but the Good Lord just didn’t arrange it that way.  Now, is there any more to the letter?” and Hoss nodded.
 

I know you want a horse like Hoss, Little Buddy, but Buttermilk would be awful lonesome if you stopped riding him.  He needs you to take care of him and love him.  Remember, neither Hoss nor I had a horse when we were only five.  When I was five, I didn’t even have a pony.  We had an old draft horse named Molly and when Pa realized how gentle she was, sometimes he’d put me on her back and let me ride.  I didn’t have a mount of my own until we settled here and Pa got me a little cremello mustang pony.  I loved Moonlight and it broke my heart when she died of colic.  Hoss wasn’t even six then so I don’t know if he’d remember her, but I’m sure Pa does.

Hoss stopped reading then a thoughtful expression on his face.  “I do remember Moonlight.  She was an awful pretty pony.  Adam cried when she died.”

“Buttermilk is a good pony,” Joe said slowly.  “He would be sad if he thought I didn’t want to ride him no more.”

“That’s right,” Andy said.  “You’ve got a fine pony, Little Joe.”  What a good older brother Adam is to write and convince Joe that he is better off with a pony,  he thought.  .

“Yeah,” Todd chimed in.  “I wish when I was your age I’d had a pony as nice as Buttermilk.”  Seeing his brother’s pensive expression, Hoss continued reading.
 

... Sorry, Little Buddy, but I don’t think you’re going to grow up and be taller than Hoss.  Don’t feel too badly though because Hoss is going to be bigger than I am, too.  In fact, I think Hoss is going to be bigger than most people.”

“Boy, ain’t that the truth,” Todd said and Hoss turned beet-red.

“Hush, Todd, and let Hoss finish,” Andy said sharply.

“Sorry, Hoss,” Todd said sincerely, for he knew the younger boy was sensitive about his size, and Hoss continued.
 

...I guess that’s all for now.

Affectionately yours,
Adam

“That was a very nice letter,” Andy said.  “I can see your older brother loves you very much.”  Joe's face positively glowed at those words.

“And now my letter,” Hoss said opening the envelope and pulling it out.
 

— 1855

Dear Hoss,

It’s spring here in Cambridge and we are drowning in mud. The weather here is certainly different from back home and I guess the chief difference is the amount of rain, hence the mud.  It rains every three or four days, and the damp makes it seem colder than I suspect it actually is.

Aaron, Thomas and I along with some of our other friends have formed a baseball team.  It’s a game they play back east and I am really enjoying it.  It’s not as much fun as riding Beauty, but it’s a close second.  You play the game with wooden bats you use to hit a leather-covered ball.  You run around four bases, which are wooden stakes pounded until they’re four feet off the ground.  I’m a Thrower and that means I want to throw the ball so the Striker (that’s the fellow with the bat) swings and misses.  (That’s called striking out.)  The Striker wants to hit the ball so that no one on the opposing team can catch it in the air.  Every time the team at bat has a player run all four bases, that’s a tally, and the first team to earn one hundred tallies wins the game.  I don’t want to brag, but I’m getting to be a pretty good Thrower.  My team has won half the games we’ve played and considering several of us had never played baseball before, I think that’s pretty good.  Grandfather attends all my games and so do the Quincys.  I don’t think Mr. Quincy really liked me before, but it turns out that he is a big baseball fan, and so now he does.  He still won’t let me take Julia for a walk or to a play or concert.

“He’s writin’ about that Julia again,” Joe interrupted.  “He’s always writing about her.”

“Sounds like your brother is sweet on her,” Andy said with a smile.

“At least he gets to meet girls.  I wish some families with girls my age would move here,” Todd complained.

“You’re as bad as Adam,” Joe said.  “Why d’ya want to be around girls for anyway?”

“Just wait a few years, Little Joe, and you’ll understand,” Andy said sharing a smile with Todd while Joe rolled his eyes and Hoss cleared his throat and continued.
 

As I wrote Joe, my favorite classes are trigonometry and astronomy.  Being able to use the equatorial telescope at the Astronomical Observatory really allows me to see the wonders in the heavens.  The telescope is five feet in focal length and with it one can observe the planet Saturn and its rings and even the nebula in Orion.  (A nebula is a mass of dust or gas between stars that can either appear as patches of light or dark depending on whether it absorbs or reflects radiation from the stars.)

“Do you understand what that means, Mr. McKaren?” Hoss asked, totally bewildered by what Adam had written.

“No, I’m afraid not,” Andy said scratching his head.  “I can’t believe there’s dust up in the heavens.  Did you follow what Adam wrote, Todd?”

“Not the part about neb, whatever he called it.”  He grinned.  “Ol’ Adam must really be havin’ fun learnin’ all this stuff, but how in the heck is he gonna use it here on a ranch?”

“Mista Adam a scholar.  He love learning for own sake.  He not care if he use it,” Hop Sing said, startling the others.

“That’s right,” Hoss said nodding.  “Pa always says Adam just loves to learn things.  Fer him, jest knowin’ is what’s important.

Little Joe was totally bored by all this talk and spoke up.  “C’mon, Hoss.  Finish the letter.”

“Okay, punkin.  Shore hope I can understand the rest of it.”

 
...Viewing the heavens is certainly more interesting than diagramming sentences and discussing how English grammar has evolved from Old English to Middle English to Modern English.  At least I won’t have to take any more classes on grammar after this term.”

Take care of yourself and let me know how Chubby and Beauty are doing.

Affectionately yours,
Adam

 “Now we get to read Pa’s letter!” Joe said excitedly.

“I don’t know about that,” Andy started to say but Hoss interrupted.

“No, it’s okay, Mr. McKaren.  Pa gave us permission before he went on the roundup.”

“All right,” Andy acquiesced.  “He didn’t give me permission so I think Todd and I had better head back home.”

“He won’t care,” Hoss said.  “Besides, I might need your help understandin’ what Adam wrote.”  With a smile Andy indicated he and Todd would stay.

Hoss opened the letter very carefully and smoothed the pages before beginning to read.
 
 

— 1855

Dear Pa,

It’s spring in Cambridge and that means spring flowers, rain and mud.  I would say that you would not believe the amount of mud we have to cope with every day, except that you must have vivid memories of it when you lived in New England.  Spring also means final examinations for this year are approaching.  I have been studying hard and I am confident that I will do well.  I’ve even been doing better in my recitations.  I still don’t like speaking to groups of people, but it doesn’t terrify me as much as it used to do.  I’m even looking ahead to my classes next year as a sophomore.  I almost wish I had entered the School of Medicine so I could study anatomy under Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes.  I have heard that James Russell Lowell has accepted a position as a professor of modern languages and since I’ve read and admired “The Biglow Papers”, I would really like to take at least one class under him.

I am not spending all my time studying.  Aaron and I still go to the gymnasium to exercise. I still visit Grandfather on the weekend and I still call on Julia every Saturday afternoon.  I’ve seen Richard III and Hamlet with the Quincys and I’ve also attended symphonies by Mozart, Beethoven and Brahms with them.  I’ve even been to a few balls where I could dance with Julia.  Dancing is the closest I can get to being alone with her.  Grandfather tells me to be patient even though he admits he allowed you take Mother for walks.  I wish I could convince Mr. Quincy that my intentions are strictly honorable.  I mean, there’s nothing dishonorable in a few kisses, and that’s all I want.

“Ewww!  Adam wants to kiss a girl!” Joe yelled making a face.  He glared at Todd.  “Do you wanna kiss a girl?”

“Not just any girl, but I wouldn’t mind kissing a pretty one,” Todd said with a smirk while Joe squeezed his eyes shut and stuck his tongue out to demonstrate his revulsion.

“All right, that’s enough from both of you,” Andy said.  “Let Hoss read.”
 

We’ll have our summer break in a couple of months.  I wish I could come home because I miss you all so much.  Aaron has invited me to stay with his family on their farm and I’ve accepted.  It will be interesting to see how much farm life and ranch life have in common.

Affectionately yours,
Adam

“Well, we’ve got to be going,” Andy said as Hoss carefully re-folded Ben’s letter and put it back in the envelope.  “Thanks for letting us hear Adam’s letters, boys.  I’ll be by in a couple of days to see how you’re doing.”
 

Adam and Aaron had been calling on Julia and Elsie at their homes every Saturday afternoon for three months, but still the Quincys and the Wilders resisted any suggestion that their daughters accompany their beaus on an outing.  They were bemoaning their situations to Thomas, who had recently begun spending time with a young woman named Amy Cabot, when Thomas’s face assumed a crafty expression.

“Perhaps if you suggest to Mr. Quincy and Mr. Wilder that the six of us—Adam and Julia, Aaron and Elise and Amy and I—go on a picnic they might be more agreeable.  And, after all, we don’t have to stay together the entire time.  We could play a game of croquet so we could honestly say we did that, but we could spend the rest of the picnic paired off as couples.”

“I think that would work!” Aaron said excitedly shaking Thomas’s hand while Adam clapped him on the back.

Sure enough, the Quincys and the Wilders were entirely amenable to the group outing.  Each of the girls would bring a hamper so there would be plenty of food and all the young people prayed that the following Saturday would be sunny.

“This will be my first opportunity to steal a kiss from Julia,” Adam stated excitedly as he dressed Saturday morning, which was as clear and sunny as they had hoped for.  “I was beginning to think I’d always have to court her with her family in the room there with us.”  He raised one eyebrow speculatively.  “Are they as strict in Shelburne Falls”

“No,” Aaron said candidly, “not as strict as Boston.  The young men are allowed to take the young women for buggy rides or to go for walks.  Or at least some fathers allow it.  Once I asked my father why it was so hard to be alone with a girl you liked, and he told me that when I was the father of a daughter, I’d understand.  I do in a way.  I know how I’d feel if anyone disrespected my little sister.”

Adam said slowly, “My pa told me that one kiss usually needs to another and if you’re not careful, you’ll find yourself in a compromising position.  But I’d never behave that way with Julia and I don’t see how one kiss could hurt.”
 

By mutual agreement, the three couples separated when they reached the river.  Adam and Julia picked a spot beneath a willow tree by the riverbank for their picnic.  Julia shook out the blanket and seated herself and Adam dropped beside her with the picnic hamper.  They ate and conversed comfortably.  She had packed them each a cherry tart and as she was eating hers, he watched her pink tongue slowly slide around her lips, making sure she got all the sweet filling.  She saw something different in his eyes and blushing she asked softly, “What are you thinking?”

“About a poem,” he replied softly:

    There is a garden in her face,
        Where roses and white lilies grow;
    A heavenly paradise is that place,
        Wherein all pleasant fruits do flow.
    There cherries grow which none can buy,
    Till ‘Cherry-ripe’ themselves do cry.

    Those cherries fairly do enclose
        Of orient pearl a double row,
    Which when her lovely laughter shows,
        They look like rosebuds filled with snow.
    Yet them nor peer nor prince can buy
    Till ‘Cherry-ripe’ themselves do cry. ...

He gently traced the outline of her lips with one finger.  “Do they cry ‘Cherry-ripe?’” he whispered.  In answer, she moved her lips to his.  When they broke apart, she said in a breathless voice, “I can quote poetry as well: ‘Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth; for thy love is better than wine.’”

Their kisses grew bolder but when his hands moved to caress her breasts, she reluctantly pulled away from him.  “I think we’d better find the others, Adam,” she said softly looking up at him through her lashes.

“I think you’re right,” he replied in a voice he hoped was calm.  Now he understood what Pa had meant about one kiss leading to another.  He turned away using the pretext of gathering the remains of their picnic to prevent her from noticing how their kisses had affected him.  “M-may I see you again, Julia?” he asked turning toward her.

“Yes, I’d like that very much,” she answered and he saw the faint color in her cheeks.

They soon found Aaron and Elsie, and judging from their demeanor, Adam thought they had also been spooning.  “We thought it was time to play croquet,” Julia said brightly and Elsie replied in the same artificially cheerful voice, “Aaron and I thought the same thing.”  Then she said in a more normal tone, “I wonder where Thomas and Amy are?”

“I think we should go ahead and get set up,” Adam answered.  “By the time we’re done, I imagine they’ll find us,” and his prediction was correct.  The other couple wandered over looking a bit disheveled, which made Julia and Elsie blush while Adam and Aaron exchanged knowing glances.  Adam wanted to keep his mind off Julia and the sweet, heady kisses they’d shared so he forced himself to concentrate on the game.  At first Aaron and Thomas played poorly, their thoughts on their sweethearts rather than the croquet game, but it didn’t take long for their natural competitiveness to assert itself.  By the time the game was over, they realized that they needed to hurry to meet the curfew sat by the girls’ families.  Adam held Julia’s arm possessively as they walked along while she held her parasol with her free hand, dropping glances at him beneath her lashes.

“I had a marvelous time, Adam,” she said softly as he walked her to her front door.

“So did I,” he replied.  “Perhaps if the weather is nice next Saturday we could go on another picnic.”

“I’m sure my parents would agree if the six of us went,” she said with a radiant smile.

“Goodbye then until next Saturday,” Adam said quietly and took her hand and pressed a kiss on the palm, causing Julia’s cheeks to grow pink and her pulse to race before she turned and ran inside.

Aaron and Thomas were waiting for him at the ferry as he walked up whistling a happy tune, his hands in his pockets.  “Something tells me Romeo finally got his chance to kiss Juliet,” Thomas teased.

“And it looked like you and Amy had more than one kiss,” Adam retorted.

“Yes, I’m going to have to be careful,” Thomas said with a smug grin.  “Amy’s very pretty, but she is hunting for a husband and I am most definitely not hunting for a wife.  I probably should avoid being alone with her, but I don’t think I can forgo her kisses.  I’ll just have to make sure we don’t do more than kiss.”

“And that’s easier said than done,” Adam stated baldly.  “I’ve kissed girls before, but this was different. I suppose we shouldn’t be alone either, but all I can think about is being with Julia again.”

“I know what you mean,” Aaron said shyly.

“Now I have two lovesick Romeos to deal with,” Thomas groaned.  “Let’s get you back to the dormitory so you can get your minds off girls and on your studies.”
 

From then on the three couples went on outings together every Saturday, or at least that was the impression they gave the girls’ parents.  Adam and Julia found that kisses led to caresses and after a few weeks it was becoming more and more difficult to control their desires.  Adam thought of Julia constantly and at night he dreamed of her, dreams that left the evidence of his passion on his bedclothes.  He knew that this was the girl with whom he wanted to spend the rest of his life, and he was sure that his family would love her, too.  Pa would let him have some land to build a house for Julia.  He could imagine their life together—she would cook and keep house while he worked on the ranch and in the evenings they could read and discuss literature or they could sing, or he could teach her to play chess.  And the nights ... He grew excited just thinking about their nights.  It would be so idyllic

One afternoon in May on the banks of the Charles after they had shared a picnic hamper he took her hand in his, gently stroking it as he gathered up the courage to speak.  He’d practiced the words he would use until he had them by rote, but as he looked into her soft brown eyes, as melting as a doe’s, his carefully prepared speech vanished like smoke.

“Julia, I love you more than I can put into words.  I know I still have three more years of college to complete before we could marry, but if you wouldn’t mind a long engagement ...I’m not putting this very well, am I?” he said wryly.   She smiled at him and he read the love in her eyes.  “Julia, will you be my wife?”

“I love you, Adam, and I don’t mind waiting—“

He took her in his arms then and kissed her, more passionately than he’d dared before.

“Adam,” she said breathlessly, “do you still plan on returning to your family’s ranch?”

“Of course,” he said smiling lovingly at her before kissing her again.  “They will love you and you’ll love the Ponderosa,” he added, holding her close to him.

“No, Adam, I won’t,” she replied, pulling out of his embrace.  “If you insist on returning to Utah, then my answer must be no,” she said, her voice ending in a sob.

“But you love me and I love you.  How can you say no?” he asked in an anguished voice.

“Because I know that I would be miserable living that far away from my family in an uncivilized wilderness.  Oh Adam, if you’d just agree to live here in Boston, we could be so happy.”

“Boston isn’t my home,” he said woodenly.  “I don’t want to live here the rest of my life.”

“And I don’t want to live anywhere else,” she replied sadly.  “I’m sorry, Adam, but I cannot be your wife.”  With that she turned away from him and ran toward her home.

Adam stood staring after her until she was out of sight.  Then he turned and headed in the opposite direction, blinking back the burning tears threatening to spill out of his eyes.  He was heedless of his surroundings, walking blindly until he heard a voice calling out his name and a hand reached out to grab his arm.

“Hey, Cartwright.  Didn’t you hear me call you?” queried Fred Thompkins curiously.

“No.  No, sorry,” Adam replied gruffly.

“We’re on the way to the tavern to play some billiards and have a few beers.  Care to join us?”

“Sure,” Adam answered.  Maybe if he drank enough beer, he could forget how much he hurt.  However, when they reached the tavern he decided to order rum.  He took his drink and sat in a solitary corner, ignoring his friends.  A couple of hours later Aaron and Thomas walked in.  They had looked all over for Adam and Julia and when they couldn’t find them, they hurriedly escorted Elsie and Amy home and decided to try the tavern they usually frequented, sensing that something had happened between Adam and Julia.  They were surprised to see Adam sitting by himself, looking totally inebriated.  They saw Fred and some other freshmen playing billiards and approached them first.

“We invited him to play,” Fred said to them uneasily, “but he left us and has been drinking steadily the entire time we’ve been here.”

“Didn’t seem himself so we decided to leave him alone,” Rob Fisher added.  “He’s not drinking beer like he usually does.  He’s been ordering rum.  I don’t know how we’ll get him back to the dormitory because he certainly can’t get there on his own.”

“We’ll see to him,” Aaron assured the others.  As they walked to Adam’s table he said quietly to Thomas, “I think we’d better take him to Captain Stoddard’s house.  It’s closer than the dormitory.”

“I wonder what happened.  I’ve never seen Adam drink more than a couple of beers,” Thomas said apprehensively.

“I don’t know and he probably won’t say.  You know how closemouthed he is,” Aaron replied.

“True, but in vino veritas,” Thomas added as they approached the table.

“Uh-yup, maybe the alcohol will loosen his tongue so we can find out what’s wrong,” Aaron agreed.  They had reached Adam’s table and he put out a hand to shake Adam’s shoulder.  “Come on, boy, it’s time to get you home.”

Adam opened his eyes and peered blearily at his friends.  “Go ‘way.  Leave me ‘lone.”

“Can’t do that.  What’s wrong, Adam?  Why did you get yourself in such a state?” Thomas asked.

“Omnia vincit amor,” Adam slurred.  “‘S not true.  Love doesn’t conquer all,” and his voice ended in a sob.

“Something happened between you and Julia?” Aaron asked.

“’S over.  Now go ‘way an’ leave me ‘lone.”

“No, my friend, we’re taking you to your grandfather’s house so you can sleep this off,” Thomas said firmly.  “Aaron, grab his other arm.”

Adam tried to shove them away but they easily avoided his hands and hauled him to his feet.  They half dragged him out of the tavern to Captain Stoddard’s house on Unity Street while he dolefully sang Barbara Allen .  Thomas banged the doorknocker loudly while Adam mournfully warbled, “’They buried her in the old churchyard/Sweet William's grave was neigh hers/And from his grave grew a red, red rose/From hers a cruel briar.’”

Captain Stoddard threw open the door.  “What in blazes—“

“I’m afraid Adam’s drunk, Captain, and we brought him here to sleep it off,” Aaron explained.

“I can see that, and hear it,” the Captain growled.  “If you two can get him to his bed, I’ll take it from there.”

“We’ll manage.  I know the way, Thomas.”  Adam was almost deadweight but they dragged him up the stairs and tossed him on his bed, the Captain right behind them.

“Thanks, lads.  I’ll take care of him now,” the Captain said, clapping them each on the back.  “Do you know what’s behind this?” he asked worriedly.  “I’ve never known him to drink more than a couple of beers or a glass of wine.”

“He was like this when we found him, but we think it has something to do with Julia Quincy,” Aaron replied anxiously.

“He said something about love not conquering all,” Thomas added.  “That and he’s been singing Barbara Allen over and over.  I think he sees himself as Sweet William and Julia as Hard-hearted Barbara.”

“Maybe I can get the truth from him tomorrow when he’s sober.  Can you see yourselves out?  I need to roll him on his side.  Don’t want him to choke on his own vomit.”

“Don’t worry about us,” Aaron said quickly and they left.

The Captain placed pillows behind Adam to prevent him rolling over on his back and left him.  Later he heard the sound of Adam retching and rushed in to hand him a basin to be sick in and wipe his clammy face with a damp cloth when he finished.  The Captain poured a glass of water and gave it to Adam saying, “Drink this and then go back to sleep.  I’ll fix you a cure for a hangover tomorrow.”  Adam still looked green but he silently obeyed the older man.

Next morning Captain Stoddard walked into Adam’s bedroom and handed him a glass.  "Best cure for a hangover I know of.  Drink it down, lad, and then tell me what went wrong between you and Julia Quincy,” he commanded.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Adam answered sharply, turning his back to his grandfather.

Captain Stoddard put his hand on his shoulder and turned him around.  “You should have thought of that before drowning your sorrows in rum,” he said sternly.  “Liquor loosens a man’s tongue and you already told Aaron and young Collingsworth that love doesn’t conquer all and they seem to feel you view Julia as a modern hard-hearted Barbara Allen.  You may as well tell me what happened.”

Adam dropped his eyes and said softly, “I asked her to marry me after I finished college.  She said not if I planned on returning to our ranch.”  He looked at the Captain then—a hurt, bewildered look that reminded the Captain how young he was.  “She said she loved me, but she’d only marry me on her terms.”

“I know it’s hard for you to believe this now while you are hurting but, Adam, Julia’s turning down your proposal is for the best,” Captain Stoddard said as gently as he could.

“You don’t understand,” Adam replied fiercely.

“Adam, don’t you see that it would have been far more painful for you both if you and Julia had married, moved to the Ponderosa, and then she realized how miserable she was separated from her family and the way of life she’s always known.”

“I would have made her happy,” Adam retorted.  “In time she would have come to love the Ponderosa as much as I do.”

The Captain started to say more, but instead he simply sighed in frustration.  It was too much to expect the boy to realize that Julia Quincy was not the stuff that pioneers are made of.  She had spent her entire life surrounded by a loving family that provided her all the comforts Boston could offer.  If Adam had wanted to live in Boston, then she would have been a perfect wife—beautiful, charming, and gracious.  She would have managed his household efficiently, raised their children and supported his career.  Captain Stoddard could only be grateful to her for realizing that her love for Adam was not great enough to overcome her unwillingness to live where she would have to forego the social life she had always known—visiting friends, attending dinner parties, balls, concerts, and the theater—and instead live a life of relative isolation without the comforts she took for granted.  He looked at Adam’s stony expression and decided it was best to leave him alone.

As he turned to leave, Adam spoke up.  “I’d rather my father not know about this.”

“That’s your decision,” the Captain replied.  “I promise I won’t mention it to him.”
 

Adam submerged himself entirely in his studies.  Except for the time he spent playing baseball (and he had to be persuaded that it wasn’t fair to the team if he quit) and visiting his grandfather, his world was confined to his classrooms and his study.  Even on the baseball field he was morose and withdrawn. His classmates didn’t know what to make of the change in his behavior while Aaron, Thomas and the Captain grew increasingly anxious.  The Captain even considered breaking his word and writing Ben.  Gradually, the pain lessened and Adam could glimpse Julia on Sundays at church without feeling as though a knife was being twisted in his guts (although each did his or her best to avoid the other).  Eventually, he began spending time with his friends engaging in their old pastimes.  If it hurt to know Aaron was still spending his Saturday afternoons with Elsie, he kept it to himself, for he despised himself for feeling envious of Aaron’s happiness.
 
 
 
 

Weeks had gone by without a letter from Adam and Ben was starting to worry.  Abel wrote and he didn’t mentioned anything about Adam being unwell, so why haven’t we heard from him? Ben wondered.  He knew Hoss was concerned and Joe had begun having nightmares again just as he had after his mother died.  The only thing that would calm his fears was a letter from his brother, but none arrived.

As was their custom, the Cartwrights traveled to Mormon Station for the Fourth of July celebration even though none of them was in a very festive mood.  Even Hoss wasn’t cheered much by the thought of all the pie, cake and cookies he could eat after the baking contest.  Ben told Hoss to watch Joe while he unloaded the hamper and blanket for their picnic.  Will Cass saw them and came running over.

“Hello Ben, Hoss, Joe,” he said with a friendly smile.  “Knew you’d be in town for the celebration so I wanted to give you this.  Letter arrived day yesterday and I knew you’d been looking for one from Cambridge for weeks.”

“I sure have,” Ben said grinning from ear to ear while Hoss and Joe shouted their joy.  “I think we have time to read it before we eat, don’t you boys?”

“Shore do, Pa!” Hoss said and Joe shouted, “Read it now, Pa!”

Ben tore open the letter eagerly and began to read.

— 1855
 

Dear Family,

First off I want to apologize for taking so long to write.  I’ve been really busy studying but I know that’s no excuse.  At least the studying paid off.  Final examinations are over now and I can tell you that I placed third in my class.  (Thomas placed second and Aaron placed fourth.)  We’re all feeling proud of ourselves, and as for Grandfather, he is about ready to burst all the buttons on his waistcoat.

Yesterday was Class Day. It begins with a prayer by the class chaplain and then the entire class, accompanied by a band of musicians, marches to the President’s House where they are served a light lunch.  After lunch, the class escorts the College officials in a procession to the meetinghouse of the First Parish where there is short program.  After the program, the fun begins.  Tables are set up in the Yard loaded with all kinds of food and there is dancing in Harvard Hall and on the grass outside.  This goes on until 4:30 in the afternoon.  At 4:30, the members of the Senior class run around the Yard cheering, “Rah-rah-rah!” at each building.  At five o’clock, it is time for dancing around the Liberty Tree.  All the other trees in the Yard are full of boys from town who climb them so they can watch the fun.

The Seniors, wearing truly bizarre hats, grab hands and run around the tree just as if they were playing Ring Around the Rosy.  The Junior class joins the ring next, then the Sophomores and finally we Freshmen join the circle.  Then we all try to jump up and grab some of the wreath of flowers high up in the tree.  Aaron and I took turns climbing on each other’s shoulders so we got some of the best blossoms.  Everyone keeps the blossom or leaf he plucked as a souvenir of the day.  As Class Day comes to an end, the Yard is hung with different colored Chinese lanterns.  There is music and singing and more dancing.  It’s a beautiful sight and I can’t really do it justice.

Tomorrow Aaron’s father is arriving to take us to Shelburne Falls.  Massachusetts Hall is only for freshmen, so next year Aaron and I will be living at one of the other halls.  Aaron is taking his belongings home while I am leaving most of mine with Grandfather.  (I’m taking one suit to wear to church, my canvas pants and my work shirts.  In fact I bought a few more because I’ll need them on the farm.)  Since I can’t come home for a visit, I’m looking forward to meeting Aaron’s family and spending time on their farm.  Aaron’s brother David is two years older than Hoss is and he has a little sister, Docia, who is two years younger.  His family also has some saddle horses and I can’t tell you how much I am looking forward to riding again.  I expect to help on the farm, but Aaron says we’ll still have time to have fun.

I promise that I’ll write at least once while I’m at Shelburne Falls.

Affectionately yours,
Adam

“I’d shore like to ‘ve seen Adam and them other fellers dancin’ around that tree,” Hoss said with a chuckle.

“Yeah, and jumpin’ up to grab some flowers,” Joe added with a giggle.

The three Cartwrights were now in a celebratory mood and thoroughly enjoyed the Fourth of July festivities.  Hoss won the shooting contest and Ben came in second in the horseshoe game.  Both boys participated in the contest to catch the greased pig, but it was Ross Marquette who caught the pig.  On the way home they sang songs until Joe fell asleep.  Hoss cared for the team while Ben carried Joe inside and put him to bed after pulling off his boots.

Hoss was waiting for him when he stepped out of the room, carefully closing the door.  “It’s time for you to be getting ready for bed,” he said quietly.

“I jest wanna talk fer a minute when Little Joe ain’t around,” Hoss replied with a faint smile.  “Pa, Adam has been writin’ about that Julia Quincy in every letter—how beautiful she is and how wonderful she is.  This time he didn’t write nothin’ about her.  I thought mebbe he was fallin’ in love with her but now ¼”

“I had been thinking the same thing,” Ben said with a wry grin.  “Knowing your brother, I wouldn’t be surprised if we never know what happened.”  He saw the puzzled look on Hoss’s guileless face and said gently, “Sometimes the first girl a young man loves isn’t the right girl for him.  I think that may be what happened to Adam.”

“What about you?” Hoss asked, surprising Ben.

“The first girl I ever loved was Adam’s mother and she was definitely the right girl,” Ben replied with a sad smile.  “I was a little older than Adam when I first met her, the second officer on her father’s ship.  She was there to meet him when The Wanderer docked.  Loveliest girl I’d ever seen.  Captain Stoddard had taken a liking to me and invited me home to supper and afterward he suggested Elizabeth and I go for a walk.  There I was strolling through Boston Common with the prettiest girl I’d ever seen, and I was so tongue-tied I couldn’t think of a word to say to her.”

Hoss saw his father smile and said mischievously, “I’ll bet Adam wasn’t tongue-tied with Julia.”

Ben had to chuckle at that.  “No, your older brother is rarely at a loss for words.”  He then added more seriously, “And he’s very good at concealing what he really feels.”

After a moment Hoss said slowly, “What about my mama?  Were you tongue-tied with her?”

“No,” Ben answered with a rueful smile.  “I’m sorry to say I was very rude to her the first time we met.  She was so kind to me—offering me medicine for Adam’s sore throat—but I was ashamed that I had to accept her help for Adam’s sake.  And even though it had been five years since Adam’s mother had died, I was still carrying around a heavy load of anger and guilt.”

“Guilt?” Hoss asked in bewilderment.

“When the woman you love dies giving birth to your child, it is hard not to feel guilt.” He paused and said thoughtfully, “It was your mother who made me see that I needed to accept Elizabeth’s loss and let go of the anger and the guilt.”  He changed his tone then saying, “Now, Adam loved your mother right from the first.  He kept telling me what a nice lady she was.”

Hoss smiled at that.  “She loved him, too, didn’t she?” he said thoughtfully.  “Just like he was her own little boy.  Just like Mama loved me and Adam.”

“That’s right, son,” Ben replied gently stroking Hoss’s fine, silky hair.  “Now, I think it’s time you went to sleep,” and he leaned over and kissed his son’s cheek.

“Now, Adam, I know that you and Aaron are on vacation,” Mr. Wharton said as he drove the surrey containing Aaron, Adam and their luggage from Cambridge to Shelburne Falls, “but from what Aaron wrote us I guess ya also know that ya can’t take a vacation from carin’ for the stock.”

“I’m happy to help, Mr. Wharton,” Adam replied earnestly.  “Truth be told, I’ve missed being around livestock, although I can’t say I’ve missed mucking out their stalls,” he added with a huge grin and Aaron and Mr. Wharton laughed loudly.

“You help Aaron with his barn chores and the rest of the day the two of you can spend as you please—at least until it’s haying time.  I expect ya’ve had experience with that?” and Adam nodded.  “More help we have, the quicker we can git it done.  Then it’ll be time for you two college boys to head back to Cambridge.”

Aaron and his father had a lot of catching up to do, so the first day of their journey Adam simply enjoyed the scenery.  It was very different from home, but still beautiful with rolling hills and green meadows.  They traveled as far as Lowell that first day.  The first thing Adam noticed as they approached the town were the brick buildings along the river behind a brick wall.

“Do you know what those buildings are?” he asked the Whartons.

“Cotton mills,” Mr. Wharton answered.  “Lowell was built here at the Pawtucket Falls on the Merrimack River because the water provides a source of power.  Girls from the farms hereabouts come to Lowell to work in the mills to earn money for their families.”

“Do you think we’d have time to look around one of the mills?” Adam asked hopefully.

“Adam’s interested in engineering,” Aaron explained.

“Uh-yup,” Mr. Wharton said, nodding his head.  “Should be another hour of daylight.  You boys jest make sure you get back to our inn by dark.”

Adam and Aaron made their way from the inn to the Boott Mills.  “This is amazing,” Adam said, taking in the entire complex.  On one side of the canal were the rectangular four-story brick buildings with dormer-lit gable roofs and water wheels.  On the other side of the canal were the boarding houses for the girls working at the mills, and they tipped their hats to the young ladies gathered outside.

“I wish we could go inside and look around,” Adam said gazing at the mills regretfully.  “I’d love to get a closer look at the construction and design.”

“You’re going to be in Massachusetts for three more years,” Aaron replied.  “Maybe next term we can come here some Saturday and have a closer look.  I’d like to examine the complex more closely myself.”

All too soon it was time for them to head back to the inn.  They set out early the next morning and made it as far as Townsend and the next afternoon brought them to the Wharton’s farm.

As soon as they entered the farmyard, a woman stepped out on the front porch, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Hello, Ma,” Aaron called jumping out of the surrey.  Adam watched with an aching sense of loss as Aaron ran to his mother and enfolded her in a hug, picking her off the ground and twirling her around.

“Land sakes, Aaron, put me down,” she laughed.  “I can see ya didn’t learn any manners at Harvard.”  She looked at him significantly and with a sheepish grin he said, “Mother, I’d like you to meet Adam.  Adam, this is my mother.”

“I’m pleased to meet ya, Adam,” she said extending her hand.  “Aaron’s written us so much about ya that I feel yer a part of the family.”

“My family feels the same about him,” Adam replied taking her hand and smiling shyly.  “I really appreciate you letting me spend the summer vacation here.”

“Happy to have you,” she answered with a smile that awoke an answering one from Adam.  She turned to her husband then.  “David’s out in the south pasture and I don’t know where Docia’s run off to.  She’s supposed to be goin’ berryin so we can have raspberry cobbler for supper.”  She noted Adams eyes lit up at that and smiled inwardly.  “Aaron,” she said turning back to him, “you show Adam the spare bedroom.  I’ve got to get back to churnin’.”  With that she bustled back inside the farmhouse.

“Uh, Mr. Wharton,” Adam said hesitantly.  “Aaron told me that you keep some saddle horses—“

“Sure, we have a couple of Saddlebreds.  If you and Aaron want to go riding, then yer welcome to use either my Blaze or Aaron’s brother’s gelding, Prince.  Actually,” he said thoughtfully, looking Adam over,  “as tall as ya are, ya’d do better with Blaze.  He’s fifteen hands high and Prince is a little short of fifteen hands.  Blaze is a mahogany bay and Prince is a blue roan.  Aaron’s little sister has a sweet little dappled gray mare but she’s only a little over fourteen hands high.”

“I’ve never ridden a Saddlebred,” Adam commented.  “My mount, Beauty, is a Quarter Horse.  She’s wonderful at cutting cattle and she can run like the wind if she gets the chance.”

“I’ve seen Quarter Horses, but I prefer Saddlebreds.  They have an easy gait, and they have lots of stamina.”

“I’m looking forward to riding Blaze,” Adam replied.  “I’ve really missed having a mount.”

“I’d like to see Caesar now, if that’s all right with you, Pa?  And I could let Adam meet Blaze,” Aaron asked eagerly.

“Git on with ya then,” Mr. Wharton laughed.  “But change out of yer “college” clothes before ya go for a ride.”

As they approached the door to the mud porch, a young girl of ten or eleven, dressed in cherry-red calico with her dark brown hair braided in pigtails, burst through the door and ran right into Adam.  He caught her saying, “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.  Sorry.”  She looked up at him and her cheeks grew red enough to rival her dress.

“Adam, this is my baby sister, Docia,” Aaron said with a huge grin.  “Docia, this is my roommate, Adam Cartwright.”

“Pleased to meet you, Docia,” Adam said extending his hand.

“P-pleased to m-meet you, Adam,” she stammered, placing her hand in his and never taking her eyes from his face.  “I’m goin’ berryin’.  Would ya like to come?” she asked shyly and swung a bucket.

“Maybe another time,” Adam replied politely and saw the little girl’s face fall.

“Adam and I are going riding,” Aaron added.  “But we’ll have plenty of chances to go berrying with you.  Let’s go change,” he said to Adam.

The two boys hurried through the door leaving Docia staring after them.  Her mother stuck her head out the door.  “Ya best git goin’.”

“I am, Ma.  Aaron’s roommate is so handsome,” she said dreamily.  “Handsomer than any boys around here.”

“Uh-yup, he is handsome,” Mrs. Wharton replied looking at Docia with narrowed eyes.  “He won’t git any raspberry cobbler for dessert though unless ya go pick me some berries.”

“I’m goin’,” Docia replied with a smile and ran off toward the berry patch leaving her mother shaking her head and then calling, “Put on yer sunbonnet or you’ll be brown as an Indian!”

Adam didn’t want to take the time to unpack properly so he rummaged through his valise until he found his blue calico work shirt, his canvas pants and his boots.  He changed quickly but Aaron was ready first and waited for him so they could head to the stable together.

“I guess your horse is a Saddlebred?” Adam said to Aaron as they walked to barn.

“Uh-yup.  Caesar is a liver chestnut.  He’s a great horse, always eager to please.”

“I prefer a mount with a mind of her own, one that’s a challenge,” Adam replied with a grin.

“Why am I not surprised,” Aaron said rolling his eyes.  “Since we haven’t ridden in months, I think this had better be a short ride.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Adam said ruefully.

He had to admit that Blaze had the smoothest gait of any horse he’d ridden.  He would have preferred a mount with a bit more spirit but it was marvelous to be on horseback again.  He knew Aaron was enjoying it just as much and they rode longer than they intended.

“That was great, but we’re going to pay for it,” Aaron remarked to Adam with a wry grin as they untacked the horses.  “It’s not Saturday night, but maybe I can talk Ma into letting us each take a nice hot bath.”

“As long as you boys haul in the water to be heated, you can take a bath tonight,” Mrs. Wharton said.  “After supper.  That way you can change into your nightshirts and go straight to bed.”

Adam experienced déjà-vu as they all gathered in the dining room around the large dining table with Mr. Wharton at the head and Mrs. Wharton at foot.  He and Aaron sat on one side with Docia sitting across from him and David across from Aaron.  Mr. Wharton said grace and then they all began passing the food around.  It was so reminiscent of the meals his family had shared when Marie was alive that Adam felt his eyes begin to burn with unshed tears.

Docia was watching him closely and said in a worried tone, “Are ya okay, Adam?”

“I’m fine,” Adam replied gruffly.

Mrs. Wharton kicked Docia under the table and shook her head imperceptibly so Docia hushed and everyone else conversed normally.  David peppered the two scholars with questions about Harvard and answering them took Adam’s mind off his homesickness.

He discovered that the Whartons had a copper bathtub in their washhouse, one that you could lie down and soak in, not like the washtub his family used.  It felt so good that Adam decided then and there that they would have one in the new house he was planning.  He enjoyed himself so much that Aaron had to pound on the door to remind him that he wasn’t the only one wanting a bath.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly as he emerged barefoot, wearing his striped cotton nightshirt, his uncombed hair a tangle of curls reminiscent of his little brother’s.  “I guess I got carried away.”

“That’s all right,” Aaron replied with a little grin.  “See you in the morning.  I trust you know how to milk a cow?”

“I’ve had a little practice, but we raise beef cattle, not dairy,” Adam replied with a yawn.  “I’m sure it’ll come back to me.”

He was just getting ready to open his bedroom door when Docia stuck her head out of the door across the hall.  “Hello, Adam,” she said smiling. “I just wanted to say good-night.”

“Good-night,” he replied, reddening just a little at being caught in his nightshirt by a female, even if she were a little girl.

“Gosh, I wish I had curly hair like yours,” she said honestly.  “It’s pretty.”

“Thank you,” Adam said, feeling his cheeks flush with color.

“Could I touch your curls?”

“Docia, that wouldn’t be proper. In fact, our standing here in our nightclothes talking isn’t proper,” Adam said gruffly, his face growing redder.

“Please.  I just want to see if they’re as soft as they look.”

Deciding the quickest way out of his predicament was to concede, Adam bent down.  He felt her fingers running through his hair, and abruptly he stood up.  “There,” he said brusquely.  “Now I’m going to bed and I think you should do the same.”

“They feel as soft as Ma’s silk dress,” Docia said looking at him rapturously.  For once, he was at a loss for words and simply closed his door.  He got into bed and lay on his back with his head resting on his arms.  Surely a little girl like Docia is too young even for calf love, isn’t she? He shook his head.  If Ross or Todd or Carl ever found out about this, I’d never live it down.
 

The morning of the first day of haying was hot and sultry.  Adam quickly stripped off his nightshirt and slipped his canvas work pants on over his cotton drawers and then put on one of his plain unbleached muslin work shirts.  There wasn’t time to get hot water so he shaved with the lukewarm water in his washbasin.

“Sun’s comin’ up.  Come on,” Aaron said from the doorway.

“Haven’t made the bed yet,” Adam replied as he bent to begin straightening the bedclothes.

“Adam Cartwright, sometimes you are as fussy as an old maid,” Aaron complained as he began straightening the other side of the bed.  “Docia would love to make it for you,” and Adam threw a pillow at his head.  Smiling, Aaron caught it saying, “And even if she didn’t, what’s the harm?”  Before Adam could even open his mouth Aaron answered his own question.  “I know, I know.  You just can’t bear things to be untidy.  You’ll make someone a wonderful wife someday,” he said with a laugh as he ducked Adam’s playful punch.

They finished their barn chores quickly and were laughing when they walked through the mud porch door into the kitchen.  They quieted and took their places at the table and Mr. Wharton said grace.  Then as the platters of food were being passed around he turned to Adam and said, “Since you’re our guest I’ll let you choose.  Would you rather mow or rake?”

“I’d rather mow,” Adam decided.

“All right.  Aaron, you and David can rake and Adam and I will mow.  I sharpened the scythes last night so they’re good and sharp.”

They all ate a huge breakfast of bacon, eggs, and fried potatoes with plenty of toast slathered in butter and strawberry or raspberry preserves.  Once they finished, the men went outside, putting on their broad-brimmed straw hats, and headed for the fields.  Adam had been mowing hay since he was twelve, when his father felt he was old enough to safely handle a scythe, and he soon fell into the remembered rhythm.  The swishing sound of the scythes as they cut through the grass blended with the buzzing of insects.  The sun beat down unmercifully, and heat rose from the earth in shimmering waves.  If Adam had been home, he would have taken off his shirt, but since none of the others did, he just rolled his sleeves up over his elbows and unbuttoned his shirt halfway to his waist, exposing the mat of curly black hair on his chest.

About the middle of the morning, he heard Docia’s voice and saw her approaching carrying a pail, her pigtails swaying as she walked.  She walked right past her brothers and father to hand him the dipper.  Adam was expecting water and was startled to see a creamy, frothy liquid.  “It’s eggnog,” Docia said shyly.  “Mama and I made it.  We used plenty of cream and milk and eggs and there’s ice in the pail to keep it cold.”

Adam lifted the dipper to his mouth and let the cold liquid slide down his throat.  “It’s delicious.  Thanks, Docia,” he said dimpling and was amused to see her blush scarlet to match her red calico sunbonnet.

“We’d like some eggnog, too, Docia,” Mr. Wharton said winking at Adam while her two brothers snickered.

“It’s just good manners to offer it to our guest first,” she replied haughtily, and when her father wasn’t looking, she stuck out her tongue at her brothers.

“Would our guest like some more?” Aaron said bowing deeply to Adam.

“Don’t mind them, Docia,” Adam said kindly.  “I would like some more of that delicious eggnog if there’s enough.”

“Mrs. Wharton always make plenty so go ahead and have another dipperful.  Have two if you’d like.  You’ve earned it,” Mr. Wharton said with a grin.

“This is the best eggnog I’ve ever had.  Do you think your mother would share her recipe?  I’d like to send it to our cook.  He could make a batch for us to drink at haying.”

“Sure,” Docia said with a smile.  Then she frowned a little wrinkling her turned-up nose.  “Isn’t he Chinese?  Can he read English?’

“I taught him our alphabet and he taught me to read some Chinese characters.  But my father can read it to him if he has a problem.  My brother Hoss would really love this,” and Docia positively glowed at his praise.  There was enough eggnog in the pail for each of them to have several dippers and they felt refreshed and cooler.

After Docia departed, the men went back to work.  Adam felt all the muscles in his back and arms begin to ache and he was relieved when in the afternoon Docia returned with another big pail of cold eggnog sprinkled heavily with nutmeg.  He had to smile when she once again offered him the dipper first, and once she was out of earshot the others teased Adam unmercifully about robbing the cradle and being a lady-killer.

They worked in the hayfield as long as there was light to see by and then they did their chores by lantern-light.  Mrs. Wharton had prepared a huge supper of ham, mashed turnips, creamed peas, pickled beets, green beans and fresh bread.  For dessert there was sponge cake and, as a surprise, ice cream.  (Docia had suggested it and she and Mrs. Wharton had managed to drag out a block of ice from the icehouse and crush it with hammers.)  Adam was starving and ate his fill, especially of the cold ice cream.

The next morning they had another huge breakfast and then they headed out to the field.  Aaron raked the dried hay into windrows while Mr. Wharton and Adam pitched the windrows into the hay-rack and David trampled them down until there was no room in the hay-rack for any more.  Mr. Wharton drove the hayrack to the barn and pitched it into the haymow while Adam and David cut more hay.  When Mr. Wharton returned, they repeated the process of filling the hayrack.  Every day for two weeks (except Sunday) the men worked from dawn to dusk mowing the hay and storing it in the haymows.  At the end of that time Mr. Wharton said to Adam and Aaron, “Well, boys, you’ve worked hard and you’ve another week before returning to Harvard.  I think David and I can handle the chores so you two take the week off and just have fun.”

“Thanks, Pa,” Aaron said with a grin that stretched from ear to ear.  “Adam, you wanna go fishing tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Adam replied with a grin of his own. “We’ll bring back tomorrow night’s supper, Mrs. Wharton.”

For the next seven days Adam and Aaron just had fun.  They fished, they swam, and they rode.  A few times they talked Mrs. Wharton into making the custard for ice cream by hauling a block of ice from the icehouse and crushing it.  Mrs. Wharton kept Docia busy helping her so she didn’t have time to tag along after them, except for one afternoon.  Aaron had taken Adam to the swimming hole and they were skinny-dipping, their bodies turning golden-brown in the sun.  Luckily they were both in the water when they heard Docia calling them.

“Docia, go back home!” Aaron yelled as he and Adam submerged everything but their heads.

“I want to swim too!” she retorted and began unbuttoning her frock.

“Docia, girls do not swim with boys!  Now get out of here!” Aaron shouted.

“Adam, you don’t care, do you?” she said turning to him with a smile.

“Yes, I do, Docia.  Go away right now!” he said in the same tone of voice he would have used with Little Joe.  Her face crumpled and then she suddenly noticed their clothes, Adam’s folded neatly.  Her eyes grew enormous and she said in a shocked tone, “You’re skinny-dipping! I’m gonna tell Ma and Pa!”

“Then they’ll know you sneaked off to pester us after you’ve been told not,” Aaron retorted.

She stuck out her tongue and then said saucily, “I could just stay here until you turn into a pair of prunes.”

“Or we could get out of the water and let you look your fill,” Adam said sarcastically.

“You wouldn’t!” she squealed.

“There’s one way to find out,” he replied and started to stand up, just enough that she could see his hairy chest and his well defined biceps and triceps.  She took one look and gave a shriek and ran off.

“What would you have done if she hadn’t run off?” Aaron asked.

“Sat back down in the water,” Adam replied with a grin.  “You didn’t think I’d really expose myself to a ten-year-old girl, did you?”

“Naw,” Aaron replied.  “But now that you’ve taught me to play poker, I was just wonderin’ who was going to call whose bluff.”  At that he playfully shoved Adam’s head under the water and Adam retaliated by jerking his feet out from under him, causing him to go down with a huge splash.

It was haying time on the Ponderosa as well and Joe begged to be allowed to help. “I can help rake, Pa.  Hoss said he got to rake when he was six and I bet Adam did, too.  Please, Pa.”

“Hoss was quite a bit bigger when he was six,” Ben said gently.

“Aw, Pa, please,” Joe whined.

“Joseph, when I say no, I do not want to hear you arguing with me, or we’ll have a necessary talk.  Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Joe replied, his expression petulant, and Ben was reminded of Adam at the same age when he was thwarted.

“Joe,” he said quietly and reluctantly Joe met his eyes.  “Just so you know, Adam was too small to help with haying when he was six.”

“Really?” Joe asked, his face brightening.

“Now, Joseph, have I ever lied to you?”  He ruffled his youngest son’s curls.  “Hoss is probably the only six-year-old big enough to rake the fresh mown hay.  You have a job and it’s an important one.”

“That’s right, little brother,” Hoss chimed in.  “All of us would die of thirst ifn you didn’t bring us water to drink.”
 

One evening a few days after the haying was finished, Ben announced at dinner, “Your brother will be heading back to Harvard in a few days.

“I hope he writes us about what it was like staying on Aaron’s farm like he promised,” Hoss said.

“I bet they just had fun all summer,” Joe stated.  “Didn’t work hard like we did.  Right, Hoss?”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” Ben replied.  “Farmers work just as hard as ranchers and they have stock to take care of just as we do.”

“When’s Adam comin’ home, Pa?” Joe whined.  “You keep sayin’ he’s comin’, but he ain’t here.”

“Remember Joe, Adam will be gone for four years; you’ll be a big boy of ten when he comes home,” Ben replied patiently.

“Ten!” Joe repeated.  Why that was almost as old as Hoss!

“It takes four years to earn a degree and he’s only been gone one.”

“Gosh, he won’t even recognize us, Joe, cause we’ll have grown so much,” Hoss interjected.

“That’s why we’ll send him a daguerreotype of the two of you each year.  We’ll go to Sacramento right after the cattle drive and have one taken so you can send it to Adam as a birthday present.”
 

About a week later Ben returned from a trip to Mormon Station for supplies with a letter from Adam postmarked Shelburne Falls, Massachusetts.  After a hurried supper they gathered around to listen as Ben read aloud.
 

— 1855

Dear Family,

I’ve been here on the Wharton farm for about a fortnight so I knew I needed to write you.  Life on a farm is really quite similar to life on a ranch.  Every morning Mr. Wharton, Aaron, David and I get up before dawn and milk the cows.  (Mrs. Wharton sells butter so they have a good-sized herd of dairy cows that have to be milked every morning and every evening without fail.) The barn cats all gather around waiting for their bowl of milk.   (Sometimes David squirts the milk right in their mouths; he only does it when he knows his father isn’t around.  It’s pretty funny to see the look on the cat’s face!  Hoss should try it with Susan sometime.)  While we are milking, Aaron’s little sister, Docia, is feeding the chickens and gathering the eggs.  Once the cows have been milked, we water the stock, give them their grain and turn them out to pasture.  Then we muck out the stalls.  Sound familiar?  Then it’s time for breakfast.

Mrs. Wharton (with some help from Docia) prepares a big breakfast.  She’s just about as good a cook as Hop Sing.   After breakfast Aaron and I are free to amuse ourselves.  (Mr. Wharton just asks us to help with the barn chores right now.  Later when it’s haying time, Aaron and I will help with that.)  The Whartons own some horses—Saddlebreds—so Aaron and I go riding every day.  We both really missed it while we were at Harvard.  These Saddlebreds sure have a smooth gait, but none of them can hold a candle to Beauty.  A couple of times Aaron and I have gone berrying with Docia.  There’s a big berry patch by the farm.  Poor Docia ran into a black bear one time, but she said the bear was as surprised as she was and ran off into the woods.  Apparently the black bears they have around here are not as ferocious as our grizzlies are.

Docia is really a cute little girl, but I’ve discovered that little sisters can be just as pesky as little brothers.  Wherever Aaron and I go, Docia tries to follow.  Mrs. Wharton keeps her pretty busy churning butter and helping with the cleaning, laundry and cooking, but somehow she manages to slip away and come after us.  (Does she remind you of anyone, Hoss?)

Hoss laughed out loud at that and Ben smiled but Joe frowned.  “Does he mean me?”

“He shore does, punkin.  You and that Docia sound a lot alike to me.”

“I ain’t like no girl!  You take that back, Hoss!” Joe shouted, jumping to his feet.

“Sit down, Joseph,” Ben said calmly.  “All Hoss and Adam mean is that you and Docia both like to tag along after your older brothers.  No one is saying you are like a girl.”

Somewhat mollified Joe sat back down but he still glared at Hoss.
 

...Besides riding and berrying, we go fishing and swimming.  We’ve ridden into Shelburne Falls and explored the town.  Aaron showed me some potholes caused by glaciers at the end of one of the streets.  There is one pothole that is thirty-nine feet across.  Pretty amazing.  Aaron and I have also gone canoeing on the Deerfield River.  (Shelburne Falls is built on the banks of the river.)   I guess you can tell I am having a wonderful time and the Whartons are treating me just like one of the family.

Affectionately yours,
Adam

Joe spoke up then.  “I think Adam’s havin’ so much fun he don’t even miss us.  Well, I don’t miss him neither!”  He jumped up and ran into the bedroom he shared with Hoss, slamming the heavy door behind him.

Hoss stood up and started to go after him, but Ben reached out and caught him by the arm.  “Give him time to simmer down, Hoss.”

Hoss slowly sat back down and then said softly, “It don’t sound like Adam’s missin’ us much.”

“Hoss,” Ben said gently, reaching over to squeeze his middle son’s hand, “just because your brother writes us that he is having a good time staying with Aaron’s family doesn’t mean he doesn’t miss us.  Quite the contrary.  I think staying with Aaron’s family probably makes him miss us more, but you know he won’t admit it.”

Hoss’s countenance brightened a little at those words.  “Yer right, Pa.  Adam’s hardheaded and he wouldn’t want to admit to bein’ homesick after he worked so hard to talk ya into lettin’ him go to college.  ‘Sides, I guess I want him to have a good time doin’ what he’s always dreamed of doin’.”  He said with a half smile, “Now, Little Joe would like Adam to be miserable so he’d come back home.”

“I only hope as Joseph grows older, he’ll understand why his brother wanted to be away from his family for four years.”

“I hope so, too,” Hoss said.  Then his face puckered with worry.  “Trouble is that Joe can be just as hardheaded as Adam.”

“A lot can change in three years,” Ben replied.  He only hoped that his oldest and youngest sons would be able to rebuild their relationship.  Adam had been in San Francisco almost a year before going to Harvard, although at least the family had been able to visit him there several times.  Now, Adam would have been absent half of Joe’s life by the time he returned in three years.  Ben knew it would take a great deal of work on Adam’s part to build the kind of close relationship with Joe that he had with Hoss.  Then with a rueful smile, Ben reminded himself of the scripture: “Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.”

“Here we are, boys,” Mr. Wharton said as they drove up to the gate to the Yard.  “Need any help?” he asked as Adam and Aaron jumped out, each grabbing a valise in each hand.  (They had stopped by Captain Stoddard’s earlier to pick up the remainder of Adam’s things.)

“No, we can manage, Pa,” Aaron assured him.

“All right, then,” Mr. Wharton replied.  “I’ll jest stop by the Captain’s and let him know you got here safely, Adam.  Now that I got you boys here, maybe he and I can have a cup o’ tea and a chat.  Now, you study hard and make us all proud of ya.”

Aaron and Adam exchanged a look before replying, “We will, Pa,” and “Don’t worry, Mr. Wharton, we’ll keep our noses to the grindstone.”

They hurried across the Yard to their new dormitory, Stoughton Hall, to get their room assignment and drop off their valises.
 

“You know Aaron,” Adam said a little later as they strolled around greeting old friends and reacquainting themselves with the Yard, “when I arrived here a year ago, I had so many plans and aspirations.  Ever since I can remember I’d dreamed of coming back east and attending college.  I wanted to read all the great literature, learn all the new scientific theories.  I wanted to be a sponge and soak up knowledge.  I wanted to discover veritas, or truth, and I thought I’d gain it from books.”

“And haven’t you?”

“Yes, but I’ve also gained it by being your friend and Thomas’s, by spending time with my grandfather, by meeting people like Winchester and his cronies—even by falling in love with Julia.  Maybe the most important truth I learned over the past year is that not all learning is gained from books. My father and yours are very wise men, and they didn’t gain their wisdom from books but from experience.  It’s not the knowledge that we cram in our heads that really matters; it’s the entire experience of being at college and being exposed to so many different people and so many different ideas.  That is veritas.”

Just then a fresh-faced young man with rosy cheeks approached them.  “Excuse me, but could you tell me which is Massachusetts Hall?” he asked nervously.

Adam pointed to it and turned to Aaron with a grin.  “And now I’ve come full circle.  Come on.  We need to unpack and find Thomas.”  They walked toward their new dormitory, hands jammed in their pockets and whistling a jaunty tune.

It’s been decades since I read The Canterbury Tales so credit for Adam’s analysis of The Miller’s Tale goes to Michael Murphy at http://academic.brooklyn.cuny.edu/webcore/murphy/

Adam quotes from Thomas Gray’s Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard , Lord Byron’s She Walks in Beauty and Thomas Campion’s There Is a Garden.  Julia quotes from the Song of Solomon.

For information on Christmas customs in the U.S. in the 19th Century as well as Swedish and French customs I used the following Web sites:
http://www.santas.net/aroundtheworld.htm
http://www.howstuffworks.com/christmas.htm
http://www.a-traditional-christmas.com/

I used the following Web pages for information on how baseball was played in the 1850s:
http://baseball-almanac.com/ruletown.shtml
http://inventors.about.com/gi/dynamic/offsite.htm?site=http://web.mit.edu/invent/www/inventorsA%2DH/cartwright.html
I was surprised to discover it was not Abner Doubleday but Alexander Joy Cartwright that established the modern baseball field.  (Think he was a relative?  Sorry, couldn’t resist.)  According to The Harvard Book of 1875, there was no organized baseball until 1862 when the New York version of the game was introduced by a freshman.  I decided that unknown to the authors of the Harvard Book another freshman had already introduced the Massachusetts version of the game, which is what Adam and his friends play, a decade earlier.

I got a little information about football in the U.S. in the 1850s at the following Web page:
http://inventors.about.com/gi/dynamic/offsite.htm?site=http://wwwwbs.cs.tu%2Dberlin.de/user/tiny/fhistory.html
(The Harvard Web site mentioned the annual game between the freshmen and sophomores, which was finally banned in 1860.  The game Adam played was a cross between rugby and soccer and not to be confused with the football games currently played at Harvard.)

I obtained information about clipper ships and sailing around the Horn from http://www.eraoftheclipperships.com/eraweb.html

There are many versions of Barbara Allen.  The verse Adam sings while drunk is found at the following Web page:  http://www.contemplator.com/folk2/brballen.html

Four novels I read and adored as a child and adolescent also provided useful information about life in 19th Century America:  Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women and Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Farmer Boy, Little House in the Big Woods and Little Town on the Prairie.  (I must confess the Ingalls’ cat, Kitty, was my inspiration for Susan the cat and Docia was the name of one of Laura’s relatives.  Farmer Boy was a wealth of information on farm life during the time period.  I got the game Truth from Little Women.)

Note:  I realize in at least one episode it is stated that Joe was born in the ranch house but in The Philip Deidesheimer story it is stated that Adam designed the ranch house.  In the face of contradiction I choose to believe Adam designed the house when he returned from college and Joe was born in the Cartwrights’ original home on the Ponderosa.  Observant people undoubtedly noted that I moved Adam’s birthday forward a few years to 1836.  I did this because there were no wagon trains heading west until the 1840s, first to Oregon and later California and I wanted Adam to be no more than six years old when he and his family traveled west