Vignettes, Part II

FOREWORD 

     This is the final installment of the series of stories I have been writing.  The correct chronological order is Journey East, Journey West, and Vignettes.  A Cartwright Christmas should really be included in this new tale, Vignettes Part II.  It would come between the chapters  TOM MORRISON and A PROBLEM—A SOLUTION.  As in Vignettes, I have attempted to portray family relationships, as that was one of the things that made Bonanza so special to me.  I was particularly interested in the way a loving relationship changes over the years, as the partners grow to know each other.  I was also interested in what a tragedy can do to such a relationship.

    I did quite a bit of research for the final chapter, FULL CIRCLE, which takes place in 1880.  Elevators were in use at the time.  In fact, Elisha Otis’s invention of the safety elevator in 1852 paved the way for the modern skyscraper.  Charles Crocker was indeed the president of the Southern Pacific railroad.  As for indoor plumbing, the Tremont Hotel in Boston was the first U.S. hotel to provide it for its guests, way back in 1826!  (though not in each individual room).  I learned that hotels were in the forefront of using modern conveniences to attract clientele.  The Brooklyn Bridge, which took 14 years to construct, was opened to the public in 1883.  It was considered a modern marvel.  And Necco Wafers are the oldest candy still made in America.  They were produced in Boston beginning in 1847.

     Finally, I’d like to thank M.B. for her encouragement and commiseration as I struggled through some parts of this story.  I also want to thank her for her editing skills.    

                                                      UNDER THE WILLOW

     “Sweetheart, you’ll have to go without me on Sunday.”

     “Why?”  Meg asked, trying to hold on to the slippery little body of their much beloved son as he splashed and gurgled in the tin tub half full of warm water.

     “That storm we had last week tossed a lot of stuff into the stream that feeds the spring house.  The water's barely flowing.  I've to go clear it out or all you’ll have next week is sour milk and rancid butter.”

     Adam had finished washing up after a hard day of ranch work.  As soon as the baby was bathed and dressed, they’d have their dinner.

     “I hate to see you work on Sunday!”  Meg poured a cup of water over young Adam’s head to rinse off the soap she had used to wash his hair.  He made a face, sputtered a bit, and then burst into peals of high-pitched baby giggles.  He bounced up and down, slapping his hands excitedly in the water.

     “Look at that, Adam!  He doesn’t even mind when I get water in his face!  Isn’t that amazing?”  Meg exclaimed, as she repeated the process again. 

            Her husband wasn’t surprised at the observation.  His wife was absolutely besotted with their son.  Once her initial nervousness had passed, she had taken to motherhood with an enthusiasm and joy that was incredible to behold.  Adam loved the baby.  He was proud of him and enjoyed watching his antics.  But to his wife, this child was a constant source of wonder.  She was convinced that he was the brightest child ever born.  She could spend long periods of time just watching him, either awake or asleep.  She reported everything he did, in minute detail, each evening when Adam came home.  He smiled and nodded.

     “I’m sure no child before him has ever done that,” he teased.  “Maybe he’s part fish.”  He held out a fluffy towel as she lifted the little boy out of his bath.  Meg made a face at him and handed young Adam over.  His father wrapped him up securely and laid him on the table to dry him.  She emptied the basin and hurried over to take charge again.

     “I really don’t like the idea of you working on Sunday,” she reiterated, gently rubbing the baby’s head to dry his hair.

     “I’m not too fond of the idea myself, but it’s the only time I’ll have an opportunity to tackle it.”

     “Then I won’t go either.”

     “Meg, you work hard all week.  These family picnics are about the only amusement you allow yourself.  I want you to go.”

     “Oh look, Adam!  The baby’s hair curls at the nape of his neck, just like yours!” she squealed, bringing the conversation back to her favorite topic. 

     Her husband rubbed his forehead in frustration. “That’s great, but can we talk about the picnic?”

     “Of course we can.  I told you.  I won’t go.”  And she bent down to inhale the baby sweet fragrance of her son just before she diapered him. “You’re the most handsome little man in the world, aren’t you now?” his mother crooned at him.  “Yes, you are…yes you are,” she answered her own question, as she diapered him and eased him into his little gown. 

            Adam listened with amusement, then returned to the subject at hand. “Why not drive out with Hoss and Rebecca after church?  If I finish early, I’ll join you,” he tried to compromise.

     “Did you ever look at the baby’s hands, Adam?  Where there should be knuckles there are just these adorable dimples.  Come look.  His hands are so chubby and sweet!”  She bent low and kissed the tiny digits noisily, causing more infant giggles.

     Receiving no response, Meg turned to look at her husband.  He was leaning back against the sink, his arms crossed, trying to look patient.  Her face fell. “Am I doing it again?” she asked, pushing the baby’s arms through the sleeves of his little gown.

     “Mmm hmm.”

     “I’m sorry.”  She hung her head.

     “Is dinner almost ready?”

     “Yes.  I just have to set the table and put the food out.”

     Adam pushed away from the sink.  He held out his hands and Meg gave the baby to his father. “Why don’t I take him for a little walk and you can finish up in here.  Call me when dinner’s on the table.”

      She didn’t protest.  She was delighted that Adam took an active interest in his son.  So many men were uninterested in or afraid of babies.  Adam had a natural ability with their little one.  And Meg wanted the boy to become close to his father, to learn from him, and to be as much like him as possible.

     Several minutes later they were eating, the baby lying on his back on a blanket on the floor.  He had not yet learned to turn himself over, but he was busy waving a rattle, kicking his feet and making cooing noises.

     “Adam, I have an idea about Sunday.  Why don’t the baby and I come with you and we can have our own little picnic out where you’re working?  I can make something simple and it might be fun.  What do you think?”

     He considered her proposal for a minute. “I guess we could take the buggy instead of the buckboard.  The road’s a little rough, but…”

     “No,” she protested.  “I’d like to walk.  It’s not that far, is it?”

      He wiped his lips on his napkin. “No, it’s not that far, but I need to bring some tools with me and then we’d need to carry the baby and the lunch.” 

     She looked disappointed.  She really liked to walk and their property was too rough for one of those new baby buggies, so she had to carry young Adam when she chose not to drive.  He was growing fast and getting heavy. 

            Adam saw her expression.  Whenever possible, he liked to make her happy. “Tell you what.  On Saturday night I’ll drive the buckboard with the tools out there.  Then we can walk out and ride back.  How does that sound?”

     She beamed at him and nodded. “That’s perfect!  I can fit Adam and the lunch in that big basket.  We can carry it between us because it has two handles.”  She stopped and thought.  “But you’ll have to walk back on Saturday night.  Do you mind?”

     “I’ll tie Sport to the buckboard and ride him back. I can leave the other horse picketed out there over night.” 

            So the matter was settled.

     To an observer they made a pretty picture…a young couple walking along, chatting and laughing, a large basket held between them.  Meg shared the latest gossip with her husband and he asked her about a new book she was reading.  Nugget, their dog, ran along with them, darting off occasionally after a rabbit or squirrel.   When they reached the problem spot, Adam settled his wife and baby comfortably in the shade of a huge old willow tree and went to work.

    Meg picked up the baby, sat with her back to the tree, and began to nurse him.   She never lifted her eyes from his face.  With her free hand, she stroked the hair off his forehead, traced his cheekbones, and captured his hand in her own.  Eventually she moved him to her other breast and he began to suckle more slowly.  His eyes fought to stay open as he continued to nurse.  Finally he lost the battle altogether and she buttoned up her clothing.  Holding him carefully, she removed all the lunch items from the basket and set him in it gently.  He fussed briefly till he found his thumb.  He was a good baby and she knew he would sleep for at least an hour…perhaps more in the fresh spring air. 

     She looked up to see what Adam was about and her breath caught in her throat.  The branches of the willow hung low…some almost to the ground.  She watched him through the leafy curtain they created.  Her husband had removed his shirt.  He had been chopping a large tree limb that was blocking a good portion of the water flow, and she caught him in mid-swing.  TWACK!  The limb broke in two.  She watched as he tied a rope securely around several branches and attached it to the traces of the buckboard horse.  He led the horse forward and the limb was pulled out of the stream.  He smiled in satisfaction as the water began to flow more freely.  He removed his boots and socks and waded to the other side, bringing the horse with him.  He repeated the procedure with the other half of the tree limb.

     As she watched him her mouth went dry and she felt the beginnings of a dull throbbing in her womb.  Could a man be considered beautiful?  But that’s what he was.  And wasn’t it true in nature that the male of a species was frequently more attractive than the female?  Attractive?  What an inadequate, puny word to describe her husband, she thought.   He was still thin and fit.  His chest was magnificent…well muscled, but not bulky.  She loved the mat of curly hair that began at his neckline, covered his chest, and snaked down into a ‘v’ below his navel.  The thought made her swallow.  As he worked she admired his natural grace.  Now he was pulling some more debris from the stream and tossing it carelessly on the bank.  His arm muscles bunched and relaxed as he worked, and she stared at the beauty of his movements.  There was a rhythm there.  As a musician she recognized it…was pulled toward it. 

     Adam was handsome.  From the first time she had seen him in Boston she had been taken by his arresting features…pronounced cheekbones, a tiny dimple that was perfectly suited to his masculine face, the distracting cleft in his chin.  His eyes were one of his best features.  His gaze was always direct and open, but you knew that he was mentally weighing everything that he heard.  Those direct eyes saw all, but revealed little.  It gave her the greatest pleasure to do or say something that would affect a discernable change in them.  She was delighted to see them twinkle when they shared a joke or he teased her.  And when he wanted to love her, they seemed to grow smoky with desire.   His lashes were long and thick, but straight.  There was nothing feminine about them.  Though each of his individual features could be considered beautiful, they were completely masculine and together, they formed face that was heart-stopping.

     And then, of course, there was his voice.  It was deep and rich in timbre, wonderful to listen to whether he was speaking or singing.  One of the real joys of her marriage to him was that he loved music as much as she did.  They harmonized beautifully and spent many happy evening hours together with his guitar and her piano.  Just last week she had watched with tears in her eyes as he sat on the porch swing, the baby resting over his shoulder, singing softly to his little son.

     He continued to work, unconscious of her observation.  She smiled to herself as she recalled a book Carrie had shown her.  It was filled with drawings and pictures of famous sculptures.  Modest Meg had been a bit shocked at the nudity, but Carrie chided her, “Oh don’t be such a prude!  This is art.  And the human body is very beautiful.  What could be more natural than for an artist to try and express himself by sculpting it?”  Meg had had her doubts, but as she thought about it now, she wondered what truly magnificent work might have come from the hands of someone like Michelangelo if he had had her husband as a model.  The artist had done a pretty good job with his David, but it boggled the mind to contemplate what a sculpture titled Adam might have looked like!

     She laughed silently at her own foolishness.  But there was no doubt her husband was handsome.  Women still gazed at him with a certain yearning when they went anywhere.  He was always polite, but somewhat distant.  Perhaps that was part of his allure…there was an air of mystery about him.  She laughed to herself again.  Adam would scoff at such an idea, but it was true.  He might not intend to project that image, but it was as much a part of him as his hair, his eyes, and his voice.

     She felt the familiar sensations of desire pass through her.  This had happened a few times before in their marriage.  For reasons she couldn’t pinpoint, she would suddenly be enveloped by an incredible want…a need…of physical union with him.  At first she had been ashamed of those feelings.  They were lustful and wasn’t lust a sin?  But when she had shyly broached the subject with him after one such occurrence he had just hugged her tightly.

     “You don’t have anything to be ashamed about, sweetheart.  We’re married.  I’m flattered that you feel that way about me.”  He had kissed her tenderly, then smiled and winked.  “And I’m incredibly happy that you act on those feelings.”

     She checked the baby again.  He was sleeping soundly, his thumb fallen from his mouth.  Nugget was curled up next to the basket.

     “You watch him, boy,” she whispered, as she got to her feet.  The dog raised his head, watched as she walked away, then dropped his chin back onto his paws.

     “Almost done?” she asked as she walked up behind Adam.

     He looked over his shoulder and smiled at her. “Yup.”  He tossed a few more small branches onto the bank, then turned and climbed up toward her.  She reached out her hand and he took it.  She pulled, but he pulled back, a wide grin on his face.

     “Oh no you don’t!” she protested.  “Stop it, Adam.  I don’t want to get all wet and muddy.”

     He stopped tugging and jumped up onto the bank next to her.

     “I guess it’s not really hot enough for a swim,” he answered, then turned and faced the stream, crossing his arms.  “Well I’m glad that’s done.  You shouldn’t have any problem keeping things cool now.”

     She wasn’t really listening.  Keeping things cool was the last thing on her mind just then.   She stepped behind him and wrapped her arms around his middle.  She laid her cheek against his back, then began to plant tiny butterfly kisses up and down his spine.  She stuck her tongue out and licked a path from just above his waist to as high as she could reach on tiptoe.

     “Hey!  What’s this all…?”

     “Shhh!” she whispered.

     He had unfolded his arms and she ran her fingers lightly up and down his chest, raking her nails gently across his flesh.  When she burrowed her fingers below his belt and began to caress his navel, he could take no more.  He turned and grabbed her by the upper arms.

     “Meg, we’re outside!”

     She didn’t answer him.  Her eyes were soft and languid.  She reached out and, putting a hand around his neck, brought his mouth down to hers.  The kiss began gently but quickly picked up in intensity.   His arms went around her waist and he pulled her closer.  

     This is insane, he thought.  Someone might come along. 

    She ran a finger around his ear.  I should stop this right now.  Her tongue made quick darting forays into his mouth.  What about the baby?  She bit lightly on his lower lip.   He wasn’t sure if the sound she made was more like a moan or a purr.  Whichever, it did the trick.  He grabbed her hand and pulled her under the draping boughs of the old willow.  They fell to the ground simultaneously, breathing heavily.  He rolled her beneath him.  The last coherent thing she remembered him mumbling was, “I must be out of my mind.”

     “Did you have enough to eat?”

     “Plenty.”

     “I told you this would be a simple meal.  You poor thing.  You did so much work in that stream today you deserve a better meal than this.  I’ll make something more substantial for supper.”

     “ ‘A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou…’ That’s really all I need.”

     “Well, we have the bread, but no wine.  And there were just some hard-boiled eggs, cheese, and fruit.   But the quotation is pretty.  What’s it from?”

     “A Persian poem called The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam.  I once read a translation of it by a man named Fitzgerald.  If you like it, I’ll see if I can get a copy of it for you.”

     “I do like it.  Is it all love poetry?”

     “Not all of it.  Some of it’s sort of…well…philosophy, I guess…observations on life.  But I think you’d enjoy it.”

     “Hmm.  ‘A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou’.  Guess that’s all I really need too.  Oh!  And the baby, of course.”

     “Of course.”

     Meg reached into the basket and lifted young Adam out.  She placed him on his back between them.

    “This is nice,” she said.  “I love the family get-togethers, but maybe once in a while we can do this again.  What do you think?”

     “I think we had a pretty nice ‘get together’ of our own and I wouldn’t mind repeating it,” he replied slyly, laughing as her cheeks got rosy.

     “Well, I’d better put this stuff away,” she said, hastily gathering the remains of their meal and finding places for it in the basket. 

     “Meg, sweetheart, look at the baby!” Adam said quietly.

     She glanced down in time to see their son roll himself over onto his stomach.  For a few brief seconds he looked like some wingless cherub trying to fly.  His arms were stretched out at his sides and his legs lifted off the blanket and bent at the knees.  Only his tummy made contact with the ground.  His head bobbed unsteadily.  Then he dropped his arms and his hands gripped the blanket.  His expression was priceless.  At first he seemed bemused by his accomplishment, but suddenly he smiled merrily and laughed, a string of drool making its way from his mouth to the blanket beneath him.  He kicked his legs out behind him excitedly.  His parents’ eyes met at the same time and they joined in his cheerful chuckles.  It was a precious moment and Adam leaned over his son, placed his hand around Meg’s neck, and drew her forward for a kiss.

     They left young Adam as he was for a minute, but neither of them could resist seeing if he would repeat his performance.  He was placed on his back three more times and each time he rolled over onto his stomach.  Meg clapped her hands in delight.

     “Well, you’re happy about this now, but pretty soon he’ll be crawling and then walking.  It’s going to be a lot more work keeping track of him when he’s mobile,” his father pointed out.

     “I suppose,” she answered, “but isn’t it wonderful to see him do all these new things?”

     “It’s wonderful,” he agreed, then sighed.  “I think we’d better head on back.  I have a few things to see to in the tack room, and there are always the barn chores.”

     While Meg cleaned up the remains of their picnic, Adam hitched the horse to the buckboard.  After tossing the tools and picnic basket in the back, he took the baby from his wife and assisted her up onto the rough seat.  As he handed the child up to her he said, “I’m glad you suggested this day together.  And we will do it again.”

     “Well maybe not all of it,” she grinned.

     He whistled for the dog, and climbed up beside her.  “We’ll see,” he replied, his eyes twinkling with silent laughter.

     “Oh you!” she exclaimed, punching him on the arm.

     Adam laughed out loud, slapped the reins, and drove his little family home.  

                                                   THE BABYSITTERS

     “I’ve made the oatmeal, Adam, and I’ve already strained it through the sieve.  All you have to do is heat it up in a pot.  But you have to be careful.  It can burn really fast so you have to watch it and stir it.”

     “Sweetheart, I think I can manage to heat up the baby’s cereal without burning the house down.”

     “Well, just keep an eye on it.   And he gets this applesauce with it,” Meg replied, placing a small jar of applesauce in the basket she was preparing.  “Not all of it, of course…about one quarter of the jar.  Adam can have the rest.”  She reached for a baby bottle with a rubber nipple.

     “I’m trying to wean him so just put some milk in this bottle, snap the nipple on and give it to him.   Did I say that you have to warm the milk first?”

     “I’ve seen you do it before when you were weaning Adam.”

     “Yes, but the milk has to be just right…not too hot and not too cold.  Test it on your wrist like this,” she said holding out her wrist and showing him. 

      He nodded. “I can do that,” he answered her, thinking that she was making an awful fuss.  She would be gone six hours at most and he certainly could take care of his two little sons for that amount of time without any difficulty.

     “And I packed a lot of diapers…it’s so good that Adam’s already trained.  But still, you have to ask him occasionally if he has to go.  He gets so busy playing with his cousins that he sometimes forgets.  So I packed extra clothes for him just in case.”

     Her husband frowned. “Just how much stuff are we hauling over to Joe’s anyway?”

     “Not much… just what you absolutely need.  Carrie made a big pot of soup so you can give that to Adam for lunch with some bread and butter.  And remember to cut the bread in little pieces so he doesn’t choke.”

     Adam closed his eyes briefly and shook his head.  He wondered if his father had fussed this much over him when he was little and, if not, how he had made it successfully to adulthood.

     But Meg wasn’t paying any attention to him as she continued to place items in the basket.

     “And this is Jesse’s favorite rattle and Adam’s blanket that he has to have when he takes his nap.”   She surveyed the contents of the basket, a worried frown wrinkling her pretty brow.

     “I don’t think I’ve forgotten anything.   Food, changes of clothes, toys…well, if I did, I’m sure you’ll find what you need at Carrie’s house,” she said as she covered the large basket with a clean cloth and turned to smile at her husband.  She put her arms around his waist and hugged him, then lifted her face to look at him and said, “I’m so happy that I’m going to this church convention!  I really needed to get out of the house for a little while.  And going with Rebecca and Carrie will be such fun!  Do I look alright?”   She stepped back and he watched with the greatest pleasure as she turned around slowly in front of him, showing off her outfit, a pretty fall dress in a rich green and yellow plaid.

     “You look lovely.  You’ll be the most beautiful woman at the gathering.”  He paused, a thought occurring to him. “Is this convention just for women?”

     “Why, no.  It’s for the church elders.  We’re in the choir and we’ll be helping serve the midday meal.”  She frowned.  “Honestly Adam, the only group of human beings on the earth who treat women with less respect and equality than the government is the church!  I do believe we’ll earn the right to serve in Congress before we earn the right to be on a church council.”

     Adam’s eyes rolled heavenward.  Women’s rights were his wife’s passion and she was on a never-ending crusade to improve them.  She managed to do so in a very quiet and non-threatening way publicly, always aware that her actions would reflect on the entire family, but she had expressed her feelings frankly to him on more than one occasion.  This was old ground and he had no desire to tread it again, though in principle he agreed with most of her beliefs.

     He reached out and pulled her into his arms. “You may be right.  Right now I’m more concerned that you don’t let any of those old lechers get their hands on you.  You look good enough to eat.”  He kissed her tenderly.

     She giggled. “Adam, you shouldn’t say such things!  These are church folk!  Nothing could possibly happen.”  She tilted her head coyly. “But I’m glad you think I look nice.  It’s been harder trying to get my figure back after Jesse was born than after Adam.  I still have a few dresses I can’t get into, even with my corset tied really tightly.”  She sighed.  “I don’t know that I’ll ever again be the slim girl you married.”  She rested her head on his chest.  He tightened his hold on her.

     “We’ll both change over the years, Meg.  If all my hair fell out would you love me less?”

     She pulled back and looked up at him.

     “Of course not!” she replied indignantly.  “How can you even ask such a question?”

     “Well, that’s the same way I feel about you.  I know that having babies has changed your body, but I’m not unhappy about it and I don’t want you to worry about it.”  He kissed the tip of her nose. “Besides, weren’t those two rascals worth a few changes?”

     She had to laugh. “You know I think they were.  But it’s not quite the same for a man as it is for a woman, Adam.”  She stroked his face gently, then continued.

     “I’ll stop complaining.  I guess it’s just hard for me sometimes to accept that time moves on.  When you were courting me, if that’s what you could call it, I thought that was the happiest time of my life and I never wanted it to end.  Then when we got married I thought that those first few months were the happiest time and I didn’t want them to end.  When Adam was a baby and a toddler, I thought those times were the happiest.  And if I’d learn from the past, I’d know that we probably have some very happy times ahead with both the boys, so I should just count myself fortunate and leave it at that.”

     She pulled out of his arms and looked around.  “I think I have everything.  I just need to put on my hat and gloves and get Jesse.  I’ll be right out.  Adam’s outside helping Davis hitch the horse to the buggy.”

     Adam picked up the basket and headed for the front door.

     “Then I’d better get out there and rescue the poor guy,” he answered her.  Their son’s favorite word had recently changed from “no” to “why”.  Five minutes of “conversation” with the 34-month old was about all Adam thought the old ranch hand could tolerate.

     There was a definite look of relief on Davis’ face as Adam walked over, placed the basket in the buggy, and picked up his older son.  He swung him high into the air, causing the boy to shriek with laughter.

     “More, Pa!  Please!” he begged.

     “Okay.  One more time,” the child was delighted to hear in response.  Again he was tossed above his father’s head and caught by strong and loving arms.  He laughed uproariously.  Before he could beg for more, Meg appeared with eight month old Jesse in her arms. 

            Adam placed the older boy in the middle of the buggy seat and took the baby while Davis assisted Meg in climbing up.   Then Adam handed her the baby and climbed up on the other side.

     “I wanna drive, Pa,” young Adam demanded.  His father looked at him, eyebrows raised, but said nothing.  The little boy was silent a moment, thinking.

     “Pa, can I please drive?” he asked in a more subdued voice.

     “That’s better!  Yes, you can drive for a while.  Climb up,” his father replied.  The child scrambled onto Adam’s lap and took the reins.  With a wave to Davis, their trusted hand, they were off.

     “Explain to me again why we’re all staying at Joe’s while you ladies attend this convention,” Adam said to Meg, as he kept a close eye on his son’s handling of the horse.

     “Well, we all thought it would be easier on you men if all the children were together.  We’ve found that it’s less work to mind them if they have playmates.   They entertain each other.  Then you and Hoss and Joe can do some planning for your father’s birthday party while the children are playing.  It’s all very logical,” she replied earnestly.

     “I don’t know.  It seems like taking care of two is a lot easier than keeping track of six,” her husband responded doubtfully.  “And what kind of planning are we supposed to do?  These things are always the same…invite people and Hop Sing cooks.”

     Meg sighed in frustration. “That’s exactly the point.  It’s always the same.  We thought you could come up with a few new ideas since this will be his sixtieth birthday.  Think of something special we can do.”

     Now it was Adam’s turn to sigh.  He would have much preferred to stay home.  As for the party, the old way suited him just fine.  He subscribed to the theory, “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”  But he had learned that marriage was a series of compromises.  He turned and looked at his wife who was fussing with the baby’s hat, and he had to smile.  She was so lovely and had borne him two healthy little boys.  She was a devoted mother and a loving helpmate to him.  When she had entered his life his whole world had changed for the better.   Her feminine perspective on things bewildered, amused, frustrated, and challenged him.  And here she was trying to make his father happy with a different type of birthday celebration and he was complaining about it.

     “We’ll do our best to think of something,” he promised her.  “You just concentrate on having a good time in Virginia City.”

     Meg beamed at him. “Oh I will!”

     Just then Adam’s attention was diverted by the little boy on his lap, who was slapping the reins vigorously on the horse’s rump.

     “Hey, hey there, son!” he admonished.  “We’re not in a race here.  Trotting is just fine.”  And he took the reins from the child’s hands.

     “I like to go fast, Pa,” the youngster protested.

     “I know you do.  I like to go fast too, but not with your mother and brother in the buggy.”

     “Why, Pa?”

     “Because it can be dangerous.   Besides, we’re almost at Uncle Joe’s house now.  I’ll drive from here.”  And young Adam knew better than to argue.

     They observed a yard full of activity as they drove up.  Hoss, Rebecca, and their 28 month old twins, Eric and Peter, were already there.  Carrie had offered to drive and was standing by the buggy with Joe, giving him last minute instructions on the care of their two children.

     “Darlin’, I can take care of things here.  You just go and have a good time.”

     “Well, I just wanted to warn you that the baby’s cutting a new tooth and he’s been very cranky.  He’s sleeping right now, but if he fusses you can put some paregoric on his gums.  It seems to sooth them.  Or give him one of those hard biscuits to chew on.  And there’s plenty of soup for lunch and you know where the bread is for sandwiches.”

     “I know where everything is Carrie.  I live here too, you know.”

     She gave him a withering look. “Don’t be sarcastic, Joe.  I really want to go out today, but I don’t want to come home to a wrecked house or neglected children.”

     Joe’s face took on its most offended look. “Look, darlin’, I think I can manage to watch Mary and Joe without starving them or destroying the house.  Give me a little credit!”

     “I’ll give you complete credit for being an excellent rancher and a wonderful father for the children, but when it comes to their day to day care, well….”

     “How hard can it be, Carrie?  Mary’s almost four and if Joe’s cutting a tooth, he’ll most likely sleep the afternoon away.  I can handle it.  They’re my kids.  I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to them.”

     “Our daughter is three and a half and our son may decide to cry all afternoon, instead of sleep.  I just want you to be prepared.” She climbed up into the driver’s seat and looked down at her husband. “I know you’d never intentionally let anything bad happen to them.  That wasn’t what I meant.  It’s just that…”

     “What?  What don’t you think I can handle, Carrie?”

     She realized that Joe’s temper was rising and she decided to let the matter drop.  And maybe she was being too fussy and worrying needlessly.  She smiled sweetly and modulated her voice, which had also begun to rise as they had argued.

     “Nothing, Joe.  I’m sure you’ll be just fine.  I really mean that.  I’m sorry if I made it seem otherwise.” She leaned down and kissed him. “Would you be an angel and hurry up the other two.  We don’t want to be late.”

     She was pleased to see his charming grin reappear.  He moved off to inform the other women that their carriage and driver were ready, and then made a quick inspection of the carriage while Hoss and Adam helped Rebecca and Meg into the rear seat.  Before any of the wives could issue any more warnings or instructions, Joe slapped the horse smartly on its rump and the carriage moved off in the direction of Virginia City.  Rebecca and Meg turned to look over their shoulders and wave. 

     “How do you think they’ll make out?” Meg asked her blonde sister-in-law.

     “I don’t know.  I hope everything will go smoothly,” was Rebecca’s reply, while a few worry lines wrinkled her brow.

     “Well, all I know is I’m planning on having a good time today,” Carrie said to the other two.  “No dishes, no diapers, no tears, no whining, no cleaning!  Just some fun singing and serving the dinner.  And the best part is we don’t have to cook it or clean up afterwards!  Yup!  I’m gonna enjoy myself!” She slapped the horse with the reins so he picked up his pace.  And the three women talked, laughed, and gossiped all the way to Virginia City.    

     “I can’t believe Rebecca thought I’d have trouble taking care of these two little fellas,” Hoss said as the carriage began to move off.  He had one twin on each arm.  “She even left me a big ole note with all kindsa directions on it.  Heck, we’re gonna get along just fine, ain’t we boys?” he asked, looking down at Eric. 

     But Eric was watching his beloved mother ride away very fast in a carriage.  It was apparent to the youngster that she was leaving him.  Mama had never left him before.  Maybe she wouldn’t come back! 

            His little chin started to quiver and salty tears formed in his big blue eyes.  They slid silently down over his cheeks as he called out plaintively, “Mama!  Mama!  Come back!”

     This caught the attention of his brother Peter.  Why, Eric was crying!  His eyes followed his brother’s and he, too, watched the carriage grow ever smaller.  Mama was going away!  He joined his brother’s wails as he extended his arms pathetically in an attempt to reach out to her.

     “Back, Mama!  Come back!” 

     “Hey!  Hey, now you two.  Don’t you go cryin’,” Hoss said, in what he hoped was a soothing manner.  “Mama’ll be back real soon.” 

     He began to move his arms up and down, bouncing the boys as he spoke.  But they would not be comforted.  Their cries grew louder and more shrill.  Hoss continued to bounce them, as he looked around hopelessly. 

     “Here…give one of them to me,” Joe suggested.  “Let’s get them in the house and maybe we can distract them." 

       He took Peter from his father and they headed for the front door.  Adam had Jesse in his arms and young Adam by the hand, and Mary was skipping along next to her father, who was sure his hearing would be permanently damaged by the piercing screams issuing from the mouth of his nephew.  He had to hold the boy tightly because he was struggling to climb over Joe’s back and get down so he could run after his mother.

     Once in the house, Hoss turned to Joe. “Now what?”

     The twins were still crying at full volume.

     Joe looked momentarily flummoxed.  Then his face lit up, as it always did when he thought of a particularly brilliant idea. “We’ll feed ‘em!  They can’t cry if they have food in their mouths.”

     Hoss look a bit doubtful. “I dunno know, Joe.   Rebecca said…”

     “Listen, to me, Hoss.  Feeding you always shuts you up.  These are your sons, so I say feed ‘em and see what happens.”

     Hoss looked to Adam, who merely shook his head and shrugged.  He was remembering something Meg had said and he bent over and asked his older son, “Do you have to use the outhouse?”  The boy shook his head.  Adam stood up, smiling in satisfaction, but the smile rapidly evaporated as he felt his forearm grow damp.  He looked at baby Jesse who was smiling his cherubic grin at his father, while attempting to pull the little knitted hat off of his head. 

     Over the din of the still screaming twins, Adam said, “I have to go change Jesse.”  He looked around for the basket with the diapers and other items that Meg had packed.  To his disgust he realized he had left it outside.   

     “You stay here, Adam.  I’ll be right back,” he told the little boy and went to retrieve the basket, happy to be out of earshot of Peter and Eric, even if only briefly.  By the time he returned, the boys were quiet.  Each was busy stuffing a chewy cookie into his mouth and Mary and Adam were similarly engaged.  Joe was looking exceptionally pleased with himself and Hoss looked just plain relieved.  But their respite was brief.  From upstairs came a plaintive cry that quickly erupted into a full-fledged roar.

     “Joe’s awake, Pa,” Mary announced unnecessarily to her father.

     While Joe ran up the stairs to tend to his son, Adam laid Jesse on the sofa to change his diaper.

     “No, Adam!  No!  Ya can’t change him on the sofa.  It’ll get wet. Ya gotta do it on the floor,” warned Hoss.

     Realizing the logic in this, Adam snatched up the baby and put him gently on the floor.  He removed the wet diaper, relieved to note that it was indeed only wet.  While he was trying to decide what to do with it, Jesse rolled over and crawled away at a pace that was truly amazing.  By the time his father looked up, the baby was already under the dining room table.  Still clutching the wet diaper, Adam got up and ran after him.  He knelt down, reached under the table, and managed to grab hold of the runaway’s little foot.  He bent down even further and crawled after his son to get a better grip on him.  He pulled him gently backwards and as he began to straighten up, he smacked his head sharply on the table’s edge.  He lifted his hand to rub the bump while still keeping hold of Jesse and realized he was massaging his scalp with the wet diaper.

     Joe, meanwhile, came down the stairs holding his weeping son.  He patted the boy’s back, jiggled him up and down, and spoke soothingly, in an attempt to quiet him.  But young Joe continued to cry—not the loud wails of his twin cousins—just a constant and steady low moaning sound. 

     “Joe’s teeth hurt,” Mary announced wisely to her father. 

     “That’s right!  I forgot.  He’s teething,” Joe spoke his thoughts out loud.  “Now what was I supposed to put on his gums to relieve the pain?  It was…para…para…para something.”  His brow furrowed as he tried to recall the name of the medication.

     “Paraffin?” Hoss suggested helpfully.

     “No, I’m sure it wasn’t paraffin,” Joe replied, shaking his head and frowning in concentration.  “But I know it began with ‘para’.”

     “Well the only other word that I can think of is parakeet and I’m sure Carrie didn’t want you rubbin’ no little bird on that baby’s gums!”  Hoss guffawed at his own joke.

     “Some help you are!” Joe shot back.  “Hey Adam, can you think of a word that begins with ‘para’ that’s a….”

     “Paragraph.”

     “No, that’s not it.  It’s a kind of…”

     “Paraphrase.”

     “Will you listen to me! The word I can’t remember is something you…”

     “Paradise, parapet, parable…” Adam continued to recite as he tucked Jesse under his arm and moved back to where the clean diaper was laying on the floor. 

     “No, listen to me, it’s a kind of med…”

     “Parallel, paradox, parallax, paramount, parasite, paradigm,” Adam continued to chant as he placed his son on the floor and began re-diapering him.

     “Oh shut up, Adam,” Joe exclaimed in exasperation.

     “Ooooohhh!  Pa said a bad word!” little Mary chirped, her green eyes wide and surprised.

     Adam laughed out loud at his niece’s remark and decided to take pity on his frustrated brother. “I think the word you’re searching for is paregoric, Joe.  Meg uses it sometimes when the boys are cutting teeth.”  He completed his diapering and stood Jesse on his feet supporting him carefully. “I think he’ll be walking soon.”

     “Hey, Adam, you don’t want ta encourage that,” Hoss advised.  I got two runnin’ around right now and it’s dang hard to keep up with ‘em, right Joe?”

     But his brother didn’t answer because he had taken his moaning child and gone off in search of the teething medication.  He returned shortly, rubbing a liquid on his little son’s gums and speaking soothingly to the boy.  This seemed to work and young Joe quieted down.

     “Hey, Joe, you have someplace I can put this wet diaper?”  Adam asked, while his brother continued to croon to the child in his arms.

     Joe frowned for a second and then his face lit up.

     “Put it in the wooden bucket on the back porch.  That’s where Carrie puts the diapers till she washes them.”

     The bucket already had a number of diapers in it.  Adam looked at the diaper in his hand, glanced at the contents of the bucket, then shrugged and tossed Jesse’s on top, deciding to let the women sort out the problem of what belonged to whom when they returned.

     He found his brothers on the front porch.  Joe still held his son in his arms and Mary, the twins, and young Adam were running around the front yard.  Joe had a swing hanging from a branch of the large tree in the yard and Mary and Adam were taking turns swinging and pushing each other. 

     “Maybe we oughta talk about Pa’s party while the kids are busy,” Hoss suggested, as he watched the children playing.

     “Yeah, I guess we should,” answered Joe, rocking slowly back and forth in Carrie’s little cane rocking chair.  His son was beginning to fuss again.  He glanced out into the yard.

     “Hey you kids…don’t push that swing so high or I’ll take it down!” he called out as Adam tried to launch Mary into space.  He turned to his brothers.

     “Maybe the swing isn’t such a great ide…,” he started to say, but was stopped mid sentence by the sickening sound of a thud, followed by a brief silence, and then a piercing scream from young Adam.  Three pairs of eyes looked up to see the boy lying flat on his back, his hand holding the left side of his forehead.  Adam jumped up and almost tossed Jesse into Hoss’ lap.  He vaulted over the porch railing and was at his son’s side in an instant.

     “What happened?” Joe asked Hoss.

     “I seen young Adam turn his head to look atcha when ya called out that they shouldn’t push the swing so high.  The swing came back and hit him in the head.”

     Adam picked up the screaming boy and examined his forehead.  A lump the size of a small egg was beginning to form.  By now Peter, Mary, and Eric were gathered around watching with interest.  Adam lifted his son into his arms and headed for the porch.

     “Can someone go get some ice from the icehouse?” he asked.  “This is a pretty nasty bump.”

     “I’ll go,” Hoss offered, and walked off still cradling Jesse and looking much like the Pied Piper as the other three children trotted after him.

     “Jeez, Adam, that’s one ugly lump,” Joe remarked.

     “Thanks for the insight,” his brother answered testily.  As he tried to calm his screaming child he was imagining what Meg might have to say about this when she got back.  It wasn’t something he wanted to dwell on.

     Young Joe was beginning to fuss some more and his father took him into the house to apply more paregoric. 

     Hoss finally returned with a large piece of ice and the four little cousins. “Why don’tcha let me chop this up some and I’ll put it in a napkin for ya, Adam.”

     The brothers made their way to the kitchen and Hoss chopped up the ice, giving Mary and the twins large pieces to suck on.  Adam watched in admiration.  Say what you would about Hoss lacking a certain amount of “book learning”, he thought.  He had occasional bouts of real brilliance.  This was one such time, as the children considered the ice a treat. 

      Young Adam, seeing his cousins blissfully sucking away on the frozen water, stopped his screaming long enough to demand tearfully, “I want some ice, too!”  Seizing the moment, his father promised him a piece if he would hold the napkin full of crushed ice on his bump. 

     Before long Adam, Hoss, and Joe were again sitting on the porch while their offspring sat on the steps sucking ice wedges.  Joe was rocking his little boy, who was temporarily quiet, and Adam held Jesse, who smiled beneficently at everyone and then proceeded to bend over double trying to suck on his big toe.

     “Well what can we plan that’d be kinda…you know…special?” Hoss picked up the conversation.

     “Darned if I know,” Joe replied.       

     “Maybe if we had different food or somethin’,” Hoss suggested.

     “I think our wives had something more dramatic in mind than just a change of menu,” Adam answered, as he held on to his wiggling son who was now rocking back and forth, singing a tuneless little ditty whose main lyric sounded like, “Ba da ba da ba da ba.”

     “Hey!  What if we had the party in town instead of on the ranch?” Joe exclaimed.  “We could have it at the hotel.  That’d be different.”

       “I don’t think a change of venue was what they were thinking about either,” came Adam’s reply.

     “What’s a ‘venue’?” Hoss asked.

     “The place where the party’s held,” Adam answered, laughing at Jesse who had inadvertently blown a huge spit bubble and was looking at it cross-eyed.

     “Well then I don’t have any idea what we can do,” Joe complained.  “I think the way we’ve celebrated in the past is just fine.  Why mess with success?”

     Adam shifted Jesse to his other arm. “I had an idea.  I don’t know what you two’ll think of it, but maybe we could ask all of Pa’s friends to write down some story they have about him…you know, a funny incident or just something that they remember.  Then we could tie them up in a little booklet and give it to him at the party.  I still think the party should be at home and the food should be the same.  As far as I’m concerned, if Meg wants different food, she can arrange it.  But the booklet would be unusual and it’d make a great gift.”

     He paused and wiped a string of drool from Jesse’s chin. “Can you think of something better?” he asked when his suggestion was met with silence.

     His brothers shook their heads.  Ben Cartwright was a wealthy man and he was increasingly difficult to buy for.

     “So Adam, you’re sayin’ that we’d write something fer this book too?” Hoss asked.

     “I think so.  It’d be a gift from everyone.  And I think it would mean more to him than a new saddle or a rifle or shotgun.”

     “You know that sounds great,” Joe exclaimed.  “Maybe we could even get Tyler Matthews at the Enterprise to print it up and maybe, you know, bind it into a real book!”

     The lack of children’s chatter suddenly caught Hoss’ attention.  The steps were empty.

     “Hey where did them rascals go to anyhow?” he asked, standing up.

       Before either Joe or Adam could comment, a flock of chickens came running from around the corner of the house, squawking frantically, feathers flying.  Lady, Joe and Carrie’s little spaniel, was chasing them at full speed.  The dog turned the corner of the house so fast that her legs went out from under her momentarily and she slid along the dusty yard for a few feet.  But she righted herself immediately and was off again after her quarry.

     “How the heck did the chickens get out?” Joe exclaimed, standing up and running down the porch steps.

     “Eric opened the gate,” reported Mary, as she trotted into view from around the corner of the house. 

     This remark sent Hoss off and running in the direction of the hen house.   He was soon back, breathing heavily, holding Eric in his arms and leading his nephew by the hand.  A look of sheer panic was on his face.

     “Hey Joe, I’m dang sorry about them chickens, but I got a bigger problem.  I can’t find Peter.  I looked all over by the hen house, but I can’t find him nowhere!”  Then he added under his breath, “Oh Lordy, if I lose one of them babies Rebecca’s gonna kill me!”

     Joe temporarily gave up on the idea of a chicken roundup and turned to his daughter.

     “Honey, when was the last time you saw Peter?”

     “I just saw him.”

     “You did?  Where?”

     “By the chicken coop.  He helped Eric open the gate.  Then Lady ran after the chickens.”  She began to giggle.  “It was funny, Pa!”

     “Yeah, I know.  It was very funny.  But did you see him after Lady started chasing them?”

     “No.”

     “You didn’t see which way he walked off?”

     “No.”

     Joe closed his eyes briefly and shook his head. “I guess we’d all better start looking,” was all he could suggest.

     Hoss, his heart in his mouth, was already jogging off in the direction of the small stream that ran along Joe’s property, Eric bouncing along on his father’s arm.  Joe sat Mary on the porch swing and placed her brother in her arms.

     “You stay there and hold your brother.  And don’t you move off that swing unless I tell you to!  Is that clear?”

     She nodded solemnly, reacting to the severe tone of her father’s voice.

     Adam lifted his older boy by one arm, seated him next to his cousin, and pinned him with a look.

     “Don’t you move.  Just sit there till I get back.”

     Young Adam nodded solemnly as he pressed the cold, sodden napkin full of melting ice to his forehead.

     A frantic search ensued.  They checked the stream, the well, the spring house and the barn.  Joe looked through every room in the house.  He checked in the pantry and under the beds.  Adam was out in the tall grass that grew beyond the fence in the back yard.  His heart pounding from terror and the exertion of running with Eric in his arms, Hoss opened the only structure that they hadn’t yet checked. There he found Peter, in the outhouse, throwing pebbles down the hole in the wooden seat.  He barely had the breath to call out, “I found him!”  He leaned against the door panting, waiting for Adam and Joe to arrive.

     “Joe, you pick him up,” Hoss requested as his brothers showed up and his breathing began to return to normal.

     “Yeah, you already got your arms full,” his brother agreed, lifting the smiling towhead into his arms.

     “It ain’t that, Joe,” Hoss replied.  “If I touch him, I think I might kill him.  And it’d be real hard to explain that to his mother.”

     Adam grinned, but Joe nodded in understanding.

     “Isn’t it about lunch time?” Adam asked as the brothers returned to the front porch, relieved to see the other three children exactly where they had been told to stay.

     “Yeah, maybe if we feed ‘em, we can get them to take a nap,” was his younger brother’s response.

     While Joe heated the soup on the stove, Hoss and Adam washed six pairs of dirty little hands and seated all the children around the big kitchen table, tying napkins around their necks.

     “If that’s so they don’t get dirty, then you’re wasting your time.  They’re already filthy from playing in the yard,” Joe said, giving the soup another stir.  He ladled it out into bowls as Adam and Hoss buttered thick slices of bread for the group.  They remembered to cut it into small pieces for the children.   

     “Move over, Joe. I have to heat up Jesse’s oatmeal,” Adam said, pouring the cereal into a heavy cast iron pot and placing it over the heat.  He stirred it carefully, testing it occasionally for temperature.  He felt a tug on his trousers.

     “Pa, I gotta go to the outhouse.”  His little son was looking up at him, an anxious expression on his face.  The boy had his legs crossed and was dancing up and down as he spoke.

     “Right!” Adam dropped the spoon into the pot and took the boy by the hand.  They scooted out the back door and moved quickly in the direction of the privy.  They made it just in time.  On the way back Adam praised his son for being such a big boy and suggested that next time he might not wait quite so long to speak up. 

     When they got back to the kitchen Joe was looking unhappily into the little pot that held the oatmeal.  The contents had burned black and an acrid smoke wafted around the kitchen.

     “Geez, I’m sorry Adam,” Joe apologized.  “I was feeding Joe and by the time I smelled it, it was already burned.”

     “It’s not your fault.  I should have taken it off the stove.  But what am I going to feed Jesse?” Adam replied.

     “Jesse don’t have no lunch now,” Mary chirped, beginning to annoy the adults with her gift for stating the obvious.

     “Hey!  I think there’s some oatmeal left from our breakfast.  Wait a second…yeah!  Here it is.”  And Joe produced an unappetizing looking lump of cold cereal in a little bowl.

      “I guess it’ll have to do,” his brother answered, taking it.  “Do you think he’ll get sick if he eats it cold?  I don’t want to risk burning this too.”

     “Nah!  Kids are tougher than they look.  Just thin it out a little with some milk.”

     “When did you become the big baby expert?” Hoss demanded, ladling soup into a bowl for his personal consumption.

     “Well do you have a better idea?” Joe snapped back.  “And anyway, I’ve been a father longer than either of you two so maybe I know a thing or two.”

     “I’ll try it,” Adam settled the question.

     Jesse appeared to enjoy the meal, complete with the applesauce that Meg had packed for him.

     “This’ll be our little secret, pal,” his father whispered to him as he spooned the cold oatmeal into his baby’s open mouth.  “Don’t tell your mother.”  And his son replied with a coo and then blew an oatmeally raspberry at his father, causing his two uncles to burst out laughing.

     “Nap time!” Hoss declared with a big smile.  “I’ll just take these two rascals and get ‘em settled on the bed in that little spare room, Joe.”

     “Don’t ya think ya ought to change them first?  They sure stink.”  A particularly foul smell had begun to permeate the living room.

     “I just did.  Maybe you better check out your son, short shanks,” Hoss tossed over his shoulder as he carried the twins off in the direction of the spare room.

     “It’s Joe, Pa.  Mama says Joe’s poopy stinks real bad when he’s teething.”

     “Well, darlin’, you’re just a regular little encyclopedia today, aren’t you?” her father answered as he found to his dismay that Hoss had been right.

     “Geez!  I wonder what color you’d call that?” Joe asked as he inspected the contents of his son’s diaper.

     “Why on earth would you want to give it a name?” answered Adam, as he sat on the sofa feeding the contents of the successfully heated bottle to Jesse.  “Actually, I can think of a good name for it, but I can’t tell you in front of the kids.”

     “I can use my imagination, big brother!  I guess I’m getting’ a little slap happy here.  I still have to get him to nap, clean up the kitchen, and round up those chickens.  Man, they won’t lay for a week or more and Carrie’s gonna be really angry about that,” Joe continued as he cleaned up his son’s bottom and fought the urge to gag.

     “Tell you what.  After we get the two babies down, Mary and I’ll clean up the kitchen and you take Adam and get the chickens.”

     “Sounds good as long as we can get them to sleep,” Joe replied as he pinned on the clean diaper.  He picked up the soiled one and handed it to his daughter. “Here, darlin’.  You put that in the diaper pail for me, like a good girl.”

     “Mama always rinses it out first, Pa.”

     Joe held on to what was left of his temper.  He took a deep breath. “I know, sweetheart, but just this once, you put the dirty diaper in the pail…okay?”

     His daughter smiled sweetly at him. “Okay, Pa.  Just this once.”  And she headed off in the direction of the back porch.

     “Sometimes I wish she wasn’t so smart,” Joe muttered under his breath.

     “She’s not even four and she’s already giving you a run for your money?  You’re in big trouble, boy,” Adam said as Jesse produced a noisy belch.

     They decided to put both babies in young Joe’s crib.  Mercifully, they both popped their thumbs in their mouths and rolled onto their sides.  Joe covered them with a blanket and tiptoed out of the room.  Adam was motioning him toward the spare room, finger to his lips to indicate Joe should approach silently.  A smile split the younger man’s face when he looked in the room.

     Hoss was sprawled across the bed sideways, arms outstretched, snoring softly.  One twin lay cuddled next to him on each side, sleeping peacefully.  Joe tiptoed in, picked up a blanket from the foot of the bed, and quietly covered the exhausted trio.  Then he and Adam made their way to the living room.

     While his son was busy with Uncle Joe trying to round up the scattered flock of chickens, Adam cleared the dishes off the kitchen table, put some hot water in Carrie’s dishpan, and began to wash up.  Mary assisted by bringing over the silverware and children’s dishes.

     “You’re a big help,” her uncle complimented her as she handed him two tin mugs.

     “My mama says that I’m a bigger help around the house than Pa!” she answered brightly.

     Adam laughed to himself.  It was tempting to question her further on things that “mama said”, but knowing how his own son had sometimes misinterpreted things, he decided not to pursue the topic.  Uncle and niece chatted amicably the entire time and Adam thought how nice it might be to have a pretty little daughter of his own.  When he got to the burned oatmeal, it took a lot of elbow grease to clean the pot.  How could cereal have such sticking power?  Perhaps there was a use for it as an adhesive!  He worked on the pot for a long time till he thought it was clean enough.  He didn’t want to ruin any of Carrie’s cookware, but more importantly, he didn’t want his wife to find out that he’d burned the stuff in the first place.

     Mary had been watching him quietly the entire time.

     “When Mama burns something she just puts some water in the pot and lets it sit for a while.  Then it comes right out and she don’t have to scrub,” she informed him.

     Adam gripped the sink and his head dropped between his shoulders.  He sighed wearily, then turned his head and looked at the little girl with the green eyes and dark wavy hair.

     “Why didn’t you tell me that before?” he asked.

     “Cause it was fun to watch you go like this,” she replied, making a vigorous scrubbing motion with her hand.

     He nodded as if this answer made perfect sense. “Let’s go find your father and cousin,” was all he said.

     Joe and the boy were just walking up the front steps as Adam and Mary came out.

     “How’d it go?”

     “Well, I managed to find all but about three of ‘em.  I don’t know if they’re out there in the bushes or if the dog got lucky.  I’m too tired to worry much about it now.”

     “I could use a cup of coffee, Joe.”

     “Well I could use a drink!  And I don’t mean a beer.”

     They looked at each other for a second and then both began to laugh.

     “It’s harder than it looks, isn’t it, Adam?”

     “It’s harder than they make it appear.  I’ve got new respect for my wife,” agreed his brother.

     “Will you ever admit it?”

     “Not on your tintype.”

     They shook hands on this and laughed again as they went into the house.

     The next ninety minutes were relatively peaceful.  Adam read a couple of stories to Mary and his son and midway through the second they both dropped off for a short snooze.  Then he made some coffee but declined his brother’s offer to lace it with something more bracing.  He was beginning to realize that with children you had to keep your wits about you all the time.

     One by one the nappers began to wake.  Hoss and the twins were up first and he headed right for the kitchen when he smelled the coffee.

     “You got any cake to go with this, Joe?” he asked.

     “Yeah, help yourself to whatever’s in the pantry.”

     “I got to change them boys again.  Sorry Joe.  I think the bed in the spare room’s little wet,” Hoss mumbled around a piece of cake, as he came out of the kitchen with his coffee cup in the other hand.

     “Don’t say anything to Carrie.  Maybe it’ll dry before she gets back,” was his brother’s only reply.

     “Oooo! Uncle Hoss and the twins wet the bed.”

     Joe whirled around.  He hadn’t realized that his daughter was awake. “Mary, Uncle Hoss didn’t…”

     “You said you weren’t gonna tell Mama.  Mama says you shouldn’t keep secrets.”

     Joe successfully fought the impulse he had to shake her. “I’ll tell your mother all about it when she gets home,” he promised.

     Another round of diaper changes occurred when young Joe and Jesse woke up.

     Joe had just returned from a trip to the now overflowing diaper pail.  He watched in horror as his nephew Eric tugged on the lace runner, which hung down on either side of the dining room table.  Hand over hand, the youngster was working to pull it off.  An ornate crystal bowl sat on this runner in the middle of the table.  It was one of Carrie’s most beloved possessions, being one of the few items she owned that had once belonged to her mother.  With each pull, it moved perilously closer to the edge of the table.  If anything happened to it…!

     “NO!”

     His brothers, unaware of what was happening, looked up in astonishment to see Joe take a running dive toward the dining room table.  He slid across the floor on his belly, his arms out, palms up.  The bowl landed in his hands.  He got shakily to his feet and placed it carefully on the sideboard.  Then he turned to Eric.

     “Let’s see if we can’t find something else for you kids to play with,” he managed to grind out.

     “I got my doll, Pa,” Mary said helpfully.  “I can play with that.  Adam can play with me, right Adam?"       

     Dolls were for girls.  Her cousin’s face fell.

     “But I don’t wanna…”

     “Go play with your cousin,” his father ordered.  Normally he might have been more sensitive to his son’s feelings in the matter, but his primary thought now was that there was very little trouble those two could get into while engaged in that rather feminine pursuit.

     The little boy sighed resignedly and followed Mary out of the living room.

     Joe brought out a wooden wagon and some carved wooden horses for the twins and two spoons and a couple of tin cups for his son, who seemed to have recovered some of his good nature and has ceased his moaning.  He smiled as his father placed the kitchenware in front of him on the floor.  He reached for a cup and spoon, waving them happily in the air.

     “Don’t ask me why, but he likes to play with them,” he said and shrugged.

     “Maybe he’s gonna grow up and be a chef,” joked Hoss, as Adam placed Jesse on the floor next to his cousins.  He had just finished feeding the baby a second bottle of milk.

     A half-hour of peace and quiet followed.  The brothers were having an animated discussion about a new line of cattle that Ben wanted to introduce into the herds when Mary ran shrieking out of her room.

     “Adam killed Jane!   Adam killed Jane,” she screamed, running into her father’s arms and bursting into tears.

     “Who’s Jane?” her Uncle Adam asked, jumping up in alarm and looking for his son.

     “One of her dolls, I think,” Joe replied, bending down and trying to comfort her.

     Young Adam skulked silently out of Mary’s room, head hung low, carrying Jane.  Her china head had been smashed, most of the pieces still on the floor in Mary’s room.  With most of her head missing, her painted smile and one remaining eye looked somewhat sinister.  Adam took the doll from his son, who looked up at him with eyes full of unshed tears.

     “It was a accident, Pa.  I didn’t mean to do it.”

     “What happened?”

     Before his son could answer, Mary snatched Jane from her uncle’s hands and clutched her to her chest. “Poor Jane!  Poor Jane!” she cried dramatically.  Then turning to her father, “Can you fix her, Pa?”

     “I don’t think so, darlin’,” replied her father, who noted yet again how much his daughter took after Carrie in terms of emotional outbursts.  He was certain she hadn’t obtained this characteristic from him!

     “Mary, sweetheart, I’ll buy you a new doll,” Adam assured her. 

     “Just exactly like Jane?”

     Adam knew enough to be careful here. “We’ll find one just as exactly like Jane as we can find.  I’ll take you to town tomorrow to look in the stores and if you don’t find what you want we can order a doll from the catalogue.  How’s that?”

     And as quickly as the storm had come up, it was over.  Wiping the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand, Mary smiled happily at her uncle.  Adam and Joe both sighed in relief.

     Turning back to his son to get the rest of the story, Adam became aware of a familiar, unpleasant odor.  He frowned at the boy.

     “Did you…?”

     “We was playin’ and I forgot.  I’m sorry, Pa.”  And his chin sunk lower into his chest, if that was possible.

     Adam sighed and held out his hand. “C’mon.  Let’s get you cleaned up.”

     His oldest son now in clean pants, Adam was playing with Jesse, swinging him up and down to make him giggle, when Mary shouted, “I hear the buggy!   Mama’s home!”, and ran as fast as her legs could take her out the front door, her cousin Adam in hot pursuit.  Hoss followed the twins as they scampered after them and Joe scooped up his son from the floor to complete the parade. 

     Adam held his baby on his arm and said, “You know, buddy, you’ve been the best behaved kid here today.  I’m proud of you.  Now let’s go out there and turn you over to your mother.”

     Jesse smiled his angelic smile, waved his arms around excitedly, and vomited the contents of his stomach onto his father’s shirt. 

     The arriving mothers were met by their offspring with the joy, excitement, and appreciation that are generally reserved for prisoners of war greeting the forces that liberate them.  Carrie was out of the carriage first, tossing the reins to Joe and hugging her little girl, who was bouncing around and babbling excitedly.

     “Pa said a bad word and the twins opened the chicken coop and Uncle Hoss wet the bed, and Peter got losted, and Uncle Adam scrubbed your pot, and Adam killed Jane so Uncle Adam’s gonna buy me a new doll and…” she went on and on while Carrie took her son from Joe and listened to the tirade with widening eyes.

     “What’s she talking about?” she asked while her daughter stopped briefly for a breath.

     “I’ll tell you all about it, darlin’, but everything is fine…really.  Not everything happened the way she said.  I mean, some of the things are the same but…”

     Carrie put a reassuring hand on his arm and smiled at him.  It was the smile that always melted his heart. “Relax, Joe.  I know that there are probably some interesting stories behind what she says, but if you say everything is alright, then that’s that.”

     His shoulders slumped in relief and he felt his entire body relax for the first time since she had driven away that morning.

     “Mein schatzies!”

     Rebecca bent down to kiss both twins, who were trying to climb up her dress skirt and into her arms.  She knelt down and put her arms around them, hugging them to her.

     “Mama’s back!  Mama’s back!” they chanted in unison and danced around happily.

     “Yah, Mama is back.  Did you have any doubt, my little loves, that I would return?  No, no!  I am back and now we will go home and I will make you a nice supper.  You were good for your Pa, no?”  And she stood up and looked at her husband for confirmation of their good behavior. 

      He decided to exercise the better part of valor right then. “Oh yeah, hon. They was real good.  They ate all their lunch and they took a nice long nap, and this afternoon they played real nice with some toys Joe gave ‘em.  Yeah, they was real good.”

     He swallowed convulsively and ran his finger around the inside of his shirt collar.  He was sure he was sweating.  But Rebecca was beaming at the boys and missed it.  When she looked at him she rewarded his version of the events of the day with a loving smile.  Well, he had told her the truth…perhaps not the whole truth, but he would feed that to her slowly.  He knew that the story of Peter disappearing would find its way back to her.  Mary would make sure Carrie knew about it.  Right now he was anxious to get her and her good mood into their carriage and back home.

     “Hon, you think we can get goin’ right now?  I’m awful hungry and so are the boys.”

     This appeal to her wifely and motherly instincts had the desired effect.  As Adam had noted earlier in the day, sometimes his brother Hoss had flashes of brilliance.

     “Yah!  Of course!  I cannot have my boys go hungry.  But what about the things we brought with us?  Are they in the carriage?”

     Hoss was already helping her up and handing the boys up to her. “Most of the stuff is already in here, hon. Can I get you the dirty diapers tomorrow?  Do we have enough clean ones at home?” he asked.

     “Oh, yah!  I will drive over tomorrow and get them.  That is not a problem.  Now we go home and I will make a good hot supper for all of you,” she answered as he hauled himself into the carriage and picked up the reins.

     “Bye Joe!  Thanks for everything,” he called as he slapped the horse’s rump.  Rebecca waved gaily and shouted goodbye as Hoss turned the carriage toward their house. 

     “My!  They were in an awful hurry,” Carrie commented to Joe.

     “Well, yeah.  But you know Hoss.  Always hungry.  Probably wants Rebecca to get home and start cooking.  How was the convention?” he asked, eager to change the subject.

     Meg, meanwhile, was bending over young Adam and examining his forehead with concern.  She ran her fingers gently over the bruise and was about to ask him how he had been injured when she spied her husband walking toward her, holding Jesse and wiping off the front of his shirt, which appeared to be quite wet.  When he reached her, he placed his hand under her chin, tilted her head back, and kissed her gently.

     “Welcome back.  How was the convention?”

     “It was wonderful.  We had a marvelous time.  I’ll tell you all about it later.  But what happened to Adam?” she asked, taking Jesse, whose arms were outstretched in supplication towards her.  She kissed him and tickled his belly while waiting for an answer.

     “He got hit in the head with the swing.”

     Meg placed a gentle hand on their son’s curly head.  He had wrapped his arm around her skirt and leaned his head against her.  How could a sturdy, impish boy like his son suddenly look so pathetic, Adam wondered, feeling worse than ever.

     “Weren’t you watching him?” she asked.

     This was, of course, a trick question.  Adam hated trick questions and this one ranked right up there with “Have you stopped beating your wife?”  How could he possibly answer her?  If he said no, he branded himself, at best, an inattentive parent… perhaps even negligent in her eyes.  If he said yes, how could he explain the purple egg adorning his son’s brow?  Wouldn’t that mean he had stood idly by and watched while the child had been injured?  Her voice and expression were in no way accusing, but he still felt like an eight-year old standing before the principal for some misdeed he had committed.  He rolled his shoulders back and coughed. 

     “Well, it all happened so fast…”

     She moved closer intending to assure him that things like this happened, when she caught a whiff of his shirt.  She wrinkled her nose and said, “You don’t smell very good.”

     “Yeah…well, you packed lots of clothes for the kids but you never packed anything for me to change into,” he answered her with a rueful grin.

     She chuckled and pinched his cheek gently. “That’s because you’re my big boy and I didn’t think I needed to pack extra clothes for you!”

     He looked at the portrait she and his boys made, standing there in Joe’s front yard.  Jesse’s head was resting on her shoulder as he sucked blissfully on the thumb in his mouth.  Adam still had his arm wrapped around Meg and was looking up at her adoringly.  For a brief moment, he felt like the odd man out. 

     “Let’s go home,” was his only response.

     “Anything interesting in the paper?” Meg asked as they sat in front of the fireplace that night.  Supper was over and the boys were sleeping.  It was her favorite time of the day.  Work was over and she and Adam had an hour or so to spend quietly together before bed.  Sometimes he strummed softly on his guitar and they might quietly harmonize to a favorite song.  Other times he would read to her from a book or the newspaper as she knitted or crocheted.  Tonight she was rocking and working on a new shawl for herself while he scanned a copy of The Territorial Enterprise which she had bought for him while she was in town that day. 

     “Not really.”

     She let her knitting drop into her lap, cocked her head, and looked at him.  His behavior had been a little…well…odd…ever since they got back from Joe’s.  She finished the row, placed everything carefully in her workbasket, then got up and knelt at his feet.  She crossed her arms over his knees and rested her chin on her forearms. 

     “Wanna talk about it?”

     He lowered the paper slightly and looked at her over its top.

     “Talk about what?” 

     “I don’t know.  You act as if something’s bothering you…or at least on your mind.  Did something else happen at Joe’s that you didn’t tell me about?”

     He chuckled and lowered the paper a little further.  Over the course of the evening he had told her about the activities and adventures of his day, including the burnt oatmeal.  She had clucked in sympathy, while privately feeling grateful that he had learned first hand that her work could sometimes be as demanding as his own.

     “I ‘fessed up to everything, I promise you.”

     “Then what is it?  You’ve seemed a little…distant…all evening.”

     He folded the paper and tossed it onto the table next to him.  He paused a moment before speaking.

     “I’ve been thinking about lions.”

     Her eyebrows went up in surprise.

     “Lions?  Do you mean mountain lions?  Are they killing the stock again?” she asked.

     “No, not mountain lions.  African lions.”

     Her brow wrinkled in confusion, but he continued before she could say anything.

     “I read about African lions once.  They live in groups called prides.  The prides are mainly run by the females.  Usually there are several females and they’re generally related to each other…mothers, sisters, and nieces.  They do all the hunting and they take care of their cubs.   The male lion in the pride mates with them and keeps other males away, but, aside from that, he doesn’t contribute much.  The lionesses form a tight little band and take care of just about everything.”

     He stopped and looked at her.  She waited silently for him to continue.

     Absently he scratched his ear and then said, “When you got back today the boys couldn’t wait to get to you.  I looked at the three of you and you seemed like a little pride all of your own.”

      She was stunned by what he was saying.  From the day she had first met him, Adam Cartwright seemed the epitome of the independent, self-confident male.  He was strong in his convictions and uncaring of other people’s opinions when they differed from his own if he believed he was right.  She had learned to read him by observation because he wasn’t given to verbal introspection.  She had gathered from remarks made by his brothers and father that events had occasionally pitted the three of them against him.  He loved his family and she imagined that these circumstances must have caused him pain.  Now he seemed to be saying that he felt excluded in his own little family.  She was surprised and very touched that he shared this with her, but she knew his thinking was wrong and she had to set him straight.    

     She took both his hands in her own and spoke as earnestly as she could.

     “Adam, we’re not a pride of lions.  We’re a family.  Right now it might seem to you that the boys need me more than they need you.  Well, they’re little and they do need me for some things that only a mother can provide.  You’re gone a great deal of the time, working hard for all of us.  That’s not something they can appreciate yet.  But the day is coming…all too soon, I’m afraid…when Mama’s kisses and hugs won’t seem nearly as attractive as a day hunting with Pa.  They’ll draw back from me and turn to you to teach them all the things they need to know to grow into good boys and responsible men…things I can never teach them.  They ran to me today, but Adam already flies out the door the minute he hears you ride up at the end of the day.  Your importance and influence in their lives will grow each day.  I have these first few years to give them a mother’s gifts…sensitivity and an appreciation of the gentler things in life.  But you must see that even though they’ll always love me, they’ll look to you more and more as their teacher and as someone they can imitate.”

     She sighed and smiled somewhat sadly as she looked into his eyes. “That’s why I hope that someday we’ll have a little girl.  Girls tend to stay closer to their mothers.  But, in any case, I can’t think of a man on earth whom I’d rather have our boys model themselves after than you.”

     He grasped her upper arms and stood up, pulling her up with him. 

     “”How’d you get so smart?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close.

     She shrugged.

     “It’s just common sense.  You’d have figured it out yourself if you weren’t so tired from such a rough day,” she replied modestly.  “But you may have been right about some things with that analogy to a pride of lions.”

     “Like what?”

     “Well,” she said, tilting her head coyly and grinning, “I think one of the jobs of the male lion is to keep his lioness happy and satisfied.  What do you say, King of the Beasts?  Are you too tired for that important responsibility?” 

     He laughed back at her. “It seems I have little enough to do, so I guess I should make an attempt to perform my few duties to the best of my ability,” he replied as he nudged her in the direction of their bedroom.

     He did such an excellent job that his lioness practically purred.  As for the King of the Beasts—he roared in satisfaction.

                                                          SCHOOL 

     “I’m helpin’, Pa!  See?”

     “Yes I do.  Just what are you making?” Adam asked three and a half year old Beth as he walked over to where she was perched at the long kitchen table.  She was busy pummeling, patting, and shaping a rather grubby looking ball of dough.

     “Bikits.”

     “Biscuits, Beth,” her mother corrected her.  Meg was standing with her back to them, stirring something on the stove.

     “Bis-cuits,” Beth repeated carefully, giving the dough another kneading.  She pursed her pink lips and held her flour-dusted face up for her father’s kiss.  She wasn’t disappointed.  He gave her a hearty kiss, then picked her up and with a shout of “whoops!” he cradled her in his arms like a baby.  He placed his lips on her belly and blew hard, rubbing his nose back and forth against her middle.  She giggled hysterically.  He righted her, gave her another kiss on her cheek and put her back in the chair.  She smiled up adoringly at him.

     “Pa, will you make me a pool?”

     “A pool?”

     “For knitting.  Mama says she can teach me to pool knit, but I don’t have no pool.”

     “Meg, what’s she talking about?”

     His wife did not turn to face him.  Their argument had been going on for almost two weeks and she was still angry.  His patience was wearing thin.

     “She means ‘spool’ not ‘pool’.  She’s too little to handle regular knitting needles but I can teach her to knit on a spool if you’ll hammer four nails into it for her.”  She continued to stir the contents of the pot as if her life depended on it.  “And Beth, you should say, ‘I don’t have any spool…not no spool.’”

     “I can do that for you, Sunshine,” her father said.  “When you’re done helping Mama, bring me a spool and I’ll take care of it.”

     “I’m done!” the tyke shouted, giving the poor little piece of dough a final pat.  She picked it up and trotted over to Meg, holding it up proudly for inspection. “How’s that, Mama?”

     Meg looked at the pathetic little object in her daughter’s hand.  It had been beaten, kneaded, pressed and compacted so much that there was little hope of it rising.  It would be tough and hard and the best it could hope for was to brown somewhat in the oven.

     “That’s very good, sweetie.”  Meg took the biscuit, which baking would turn into something with the consistency of granite.  She finally looked up at her husband and smiled sweetly. “We’ll make sure your father gets this one.”

     Beth was prancing around happily and missed the look that passed between her parents.  She skipped over to Adam.

     “Can we make it now, Pa?” she asked, carefully avoiding the word that was difficult for her to pronounce.

     Adam picked up a cloth from the kitchen sink, wet it, wrung it out, and wiped her face and hands. 

     “Go get the spool and I’ll see what I can do,” he replied, and she raced out of the kitchen to get an empty wooden spool from her mother’s workbasket.  Adam moved behind Meg.  She continued to stir the pot.  Her back was as rigid as a metal pole.

     “She’s definitely her mother’s daughter.”

     “Oh?” she answered coolly.

     “Mmm hmm.  I know for a fact that you love it when I kiss your belly.”

     The spoon clattered in the pot.  She whirled around, her eyes darting anxiously around the room.

     “You shouldn’t say things like that out loud!” she hissed at him.

     “Why not?”  His eyes were merry.  “It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

     “Adam, you never know who might be listening.  One of the boys could…”

     He crossed his arms and leaned back against the kitchen table. “The boys are outside flying kites with the twins.”

     “Still, that’s not something you should say in public,” she argued.

     “I’m in the kitchen of my own home.  That’s hardly out ‘in public’,” he responded.   “Besides, saying it got you to look at me, which is something you haven’t done much of lately!”

     She immediately dropped her eyes.  She bit her lips together into a straight angry line. “That’s your own fault.”

     Before he could answer, Beth bounced back into the room holding out a large empty wooden spool.

     “Here it is, Pa,” she announced.  “Can I watch you hammer the nails?”

     He stood straight and took the spool from his little girl. “Okay, Meg.  What should I do with this?”

     “Just drive in four nails…here, here, here, and here,” she instructed, pointing.  “Leave about half an inch or so showing.  Oh!  And they should be thin nails with small heads.  Do you have something like that?”

     “Mmm hmm.  I think I can handle it.”  Then he added, making a veiled reference to their disagreement, “Do you trust me to do this or do you want to do it yourself?”

     She didn’t answer, but she glared at him.

     He took his daughter’s hand and walked toward the back door, as she skipped along beside him.

      “C’mon Beth.  Let’s take this to the workshop.  That’s where my tools are and even though it’s August, this kitchen is beginning to get very chilly.”

      Meg watched them leave, biting her lower lip in consternation, her dark eyes troubled.  Like all married couples, they had had their share of disagreements over the years.  They were both strong willed and independent.  But their arguments never lasted long and usually one of them could be swayed to a change of opinion if given a logical argument by the other.  They were fairly good at the art of compromise.  To be sure, Meg felt that Adam won out more than his ‘fair share’, but there was a good reason for that.  As a new bride, she had not known about life in the west.  He had warned her ahead of time that sometimes he’d have to make decisions that she might not agree with, but she should trust him that these were for her own safety and well being.  Adam was never heavy handed or bossy.  He was always careful to explain his reasons to her when she had to give way.

     The present situation had begun in early August.  Adam had come in from town and found her in the garden, picking some late tomatoes for canning.  Hoss had taken all the boys fishing.  He looked around for his daughter. 

     “Where’s Beth?”

     Meg stood up and wiped her brow.  It was very hot and she was wearing a large straw hat to shield her complexion from the sun.

     “Well Hoss, bless his heart, brought Bitsie over, so she and Beth are playing in the house, and Annie’s taking a nap.  Did you get the sugar and the lime for the outhouse like I asked?”

     “Mmm hmm.  How do we manage to go through so much sugar in this house?” he teased her.

     “I have no idea,” she answered pertly, but with a little smile playing around her lips.  “I don’t think we use more than most people, though you always claim that we do.” 

     Meg’s sweet tooth was a running joke between them.

     “Don’t worry.  I got everything you wanted and I registered Adam for school too.”

    The boy would be eight in December and had been taught at home by his mother for the past year or so. 

     Meg immediately protested. “I can still teach him at home, Adam.  There was no need to register him.”

     “I want him to go to school with other children, Meg.  I only agreed to let you teach him at home last year because we live farther away from town than my brothers.”

     She carefully placed half dozen plump, red tomatoes in her basket. “So, have they built a new school closer to our house that I’m unaware of?”

     He decided to ignore the sarcasm in her voice. “No, you know they haven’t.  But he’s old enough to make the trip.  The twins have been doing it for a year already.”

     “But they live closer!  I still think it’s too far away,” she argued.

     “It’s less than two miles.  He can easily make the trip on his pony.”

     “I think it’s too dangerous.  And he’s only seven.  Something could happen to him on the way.” 

     “He’ll be traveling past Pa’s, then Hoss’s, then Joe’s.  Everyone will be watching out for him.  If it’ll make you feel better I’ll go with him for the first few days.  Besides, he’s much closer to eight than seven.  It’s time for him to go to school.”  His tone of voice was calm and matter of fact.

     She placed the last of the ripe vegetables in the basket, setting it on the ground in the garden.   She brushed her hands together, then wiped them on her apron.  It gave her some time to gather her thoughts.

     “I can give him every bit as good an education here at home as he can get at the public school.  Don’t you think I did a good job this past year?”

     “Of course you did.  You’re a fine teacher.  If I didn’t think so I wouldn’t have agreed to let him stay home this one extra year.  But there’s more to be learned attending public school than academics.”  He reached over and picked up the heavy basket for her, following behind as she walked toward the kitchen.  He pushed the screen door open for her and allowed her to precede him in.

     “Where do you want this?” he asked nodding toward the basket.

     “Oh, just put it on the shelf in the pantry.  Want some coffee or lemonade?”  She was busy washing her hands at the kitchen basin.

     “Coffee sounds good.”

     She made a fresh pot and placed it on the stove.  The kitchen was incredibly hot.

     “Adam, go say hello to the girls and I’ll bring this out onto the porch.  It’s too hot to drink it in here.”

     The cousins were playing with paper dolls in the living room.  Beth was plump with long, dark curls pulled off her face with a ribbon.  Bitsie, Hoss’s daughter was small, thin, and blonde.  She had startling blue eyes in an elfin face and straight hair done up in braids. 

     Like salt and pepper, Adam thought, just before he greeted them.  After making an appropriate fuss over their dolls, he strolled gratefully onto the cool porch.  He sat in the wide swing, his arms stretched out along the back.  There was a little breeze here and a fine old elm shaded this side of the house.  In a few minutes Meg appeared carrying a cup of coffee and a slice of pie.

     “I’ll be back in a second.  I just want to get some lemonade for the girls.”

     He smiled his appreciation, took a sip of the coffee and enjoyed the sight of her walking back into the house.  Yessir, he thought to himself, she’s a mighty fine looking woman, coming or going!

     She was soon sitting across from him in a little rocker, sipping on a tall glass of lemonade.  Nugget, their dog, was stretched out at the end of the porch with the most shade.

     “I really don’t see the need for Adam to go to school yet,” she reintroduced the subject.  “He’s very young to be sending out into the world.”

     Her husband smiled in amusement. “I don’t think attending public school can really be equated with ‘sending him out into the world’.  Besides, it’s time he met new people and made some friends.”

     “He’s got plenty of friends,” she objected.  “He’s got his cousins and every week he sees other children in Sunday school.”

     “It’s not the same thing,” Adam said, finishing off his pie and placing the plate on the porch floor.  “I think he should meet all kinds of kids…learning to live with people who are different from you is an education in itself.”

     She rocked silently for a moment, planning her next argument. “Well, Luther Healy is still teaching, isn’t he?  And you know he hasn’t liked me ever since…”

     “Ever since you told him off 10 years ago?” Adam finished her sentence.  “Meg, I doubt he even remembers that!  He’s married now, with children of his own.”

     “Still, he might hold that against Adam and not mark him fairly.  Oh, I’m not saying he’d do it on purpose, but…” 

      She was interrupted by her husband’s laughter. “You can’t be serious!  You actually believe that a grown man would give bad grades to a little boy because of some trivial incident that took place over a decade ago?”

     Her eyes widened and flashed angrily. “It wasn’t a trivial incident!   At least not to me!”  She was rocking in an agitated manner and he decided to defuse the situation before she rocked herself backwards and right out of the chair.

     “Okay, okay!  I’m sorry.  It wasn’t trivial.  But your fears are unfounded because Healy doesn’t teach the younger students anymore.  They’ve hired a young woman to teach the primary grades.”

     “Oh?”  Her eyebrows rose in surprise.

     “Mmm hmm.  Her name is Sarah Drayton and she just graduated from a teacher college in Chicago.  She moved out here with her brother, who’s not in the best of health, I take it.  They’re hoping the drier climate will be good for him.”  He finished off the coffee and the cup joined the empty plate on the floor.

     “So you think it’s a good idea to trust our son’s education to a young girl with no teaching experience!  I can’t believe you can be so cavalier about this.”

     Adam closed his eyes and sighed. “Listen, it’s hot and I’m tired and I really don’t want to have this discussion right now.   Whether it was stated or not, it was my understanding that you’d teach Adam at home for one year and then he’d go to school with the other kids.  I know it’s hard for you to let go.  He’s our first and you’re very attached to him.  It’ll be easier with the other three.  But he should be in public school like everyone else.  As far as I can see there’s no good reason to keep him out.”

     He picked up the dirty plate and cup from the floor, stood up and moved toward the front door.

     “There are good reasons,” she insisted, “other reasons.”

     “Not now,” was the only response she received as he walked into the house.

     She was annoyed.  To disagree with her point of view was one thing, but to be so dismissive of her was almost unforgivable.   She had half a mind to follow him and continue the discussion, but then thought better of it.  Taking a deep breath, she decided that he was right about one thing.  He was exhausted and it was hot.  She’d wait till he wasn’t so tired and catch him in a good mood.  She was sure she could make him see her point of view.

        The weather had modified somewhat.  The evenings were beginning to cool nicely.  Meg lay in her husband’s arms.  They had just made love and both were feeling satisfied, relaxed, and quite content.  Her head rested on his chest and her arm was draped over his middle.  His chin rested on the top of her head, and he played with her hair, marveling as always at its silky texture.  They had discussed several trivial topics and she thought that he might be about to drop off to sleep, so she spoke.

     “Today I thought of a very good reason why Adam shouldn’t go to the public school.  He’s too smart.”

     She bounced up and down gently from the chuckles emanating from within his chest.  He was laughing.  It was a good sign. 

     “Is that your unbiased opinion?” he asked, smiling in the dark.

     “You shouldn’t laugh.  It’s not just my opinion.  It’s a fact,” she stated emphatically.

     “Alright.  I won’t laugh,” he promised.  “But you’re going to have to explain what you just said.  I mean he’s a bright kid but…”

     She was feeling very pleased with herself.  Her plan to wait and tackle the issue when he was in a better mood was working.  Surely he would now see the logic of her arguments.

     “Well, I’ve been his teacher and I believe he’ll be ahead of anyone else his age.  They’d have to put him in a class with older students, and that wouldn’t be good for him.  You have to agree that he should be with children his own age.  I’m absolutely certain he’s learned more than they teach to the seven and eight year olds in that school!”

     He was silent a moment.  Meg thought he was considering her argument, but in fact he was wondering just what it really was that made her so opposed to sending their oldest child to school.  At last he answered her.

     “I’m sure they’ll test him and put him in the classes where he belongs.  If he’s ahead in some subjects he’ll be with older students.  If not, he’ll be with those his own age.  He’s mature for his age.  I’m sure he can handle it.”  He stroked her cheek and kissed the top of her head.  “I’m tired and I want to go to sleep.  But tomorrow we’re going to find out the real reason you don’t want him to go to school.”

     “I’ve given you the real reason…lots of them!”

     “No you haven’t.  You may not even know what it is yourself.  Let’s talk about it tomorrow.”  And he released her and rolled onto his side.

       She couldn’t believe it.  He had dismissed her again!  She felt like kicking him, but she knew it wouldn’t do any good.  When he got like this nothing would change his mind, so she might just as well get some sleep.  She turned her back to him and continued to mentally refine her arguments till she drifted off.

     A problem on the ranch postponed their discussion for several days.  A nasty and highly contagious disease had spread among the cattle in the district.  About one third of the Ponderosa stock was affected.  The cattle that were kept in pastures in the high country had not been infected, but those in the lower pastures had to be killed and their bodies burned to prevent the spread of the sickness.  It was a crisis of mammoth proportions for some of the smaller cattlemen and Ben and his sons were working frantically to save their own herds, as well as see how they could help out their less fortunate neighbors.    

     The hot weather had returned with a vengeance.  Adam rode wearily into the yard and dismounted.  He was late for dinner, but not very hungry.  He walked Sport into the barn and unsaddled him.  Having worked with cattle for most of his life, Adam was convinced they were amongst the stupidest of God’s creatures.  Nevertheless, he hated the mass killings that had taken place over the last few days.  His nose was filled with the stench of the burning bodies.   Most of that work was done, but now plans were being made to keep the unaffected herds in the high country much longer than usual.  Feed would have to be hauled up to them and men posted to make sure they didn’t start to wander off.  They couldn’t remain there the entire winter, but the longer they stayed put, the better.  Time and cold weather might kill off the remainder of the disease in the lower elevations.  It was the best they could do.

     He walked slowly out of the barn and saw his older boy headed toward him.

     “Adam,” he called out.  “I want you to brush down Sport and feed him.  He’s been ridden hard all day so you do a good job, okay?”

     “Yes, Pa,” the boy answered, his eyes wide.  Sport was his father’s favorite mount.  To be entrusted with his care filled him with pride.

     “Should I water him too, Pa?”  Father and son were now facing each other in the middle of the yard.  Adam looked at his oldest child.  He was very bright and was becoming increasingly conscientious, frequently requesting to be given more responsibility around the house.  He was a handsome little lad with his father’s dark wavy hair and his mother’s brown eyes.  Sturdily built, he gave promise of being as tall as his father some day, if not taller. 

     It’s time he was in school with other children, Adam thought, though he felt too tired to bring the subject up with Meg just then.

     “Brush him down first and let him cool off.  Then water and feed him.  You know what to do.  I trust you.”

     The boy positively beamed and ran off toward the barn.

     Adam found Meg in their bedroom.  He paused, leaned against the doorjamb, and watched a scene that he could never tire of.  Meg rocked gently back and forth in her little rocker humming softly.  Baby Annie lay across her lap, nursing enthusiastically. The child was almost a year old, but Meg had held off weaning her because she believed this might be her last baby.  One of Annie’s chubby little hands played with a button on her mother’s dress.  Meg was twirling a soft brown baby curl around one finger as she gazed into her little daughter’s face.

     How many times had Adam seen his wife in this exact situation?  He couldn’t count them all.  With four children, Meg had spent a considerable amount of time in that rocking chair.  Yet each time he saw her, it was as if it was the first time.  He was filled with emotions that he couldn’t name each time he saw her like this.  A feeling of peace and normalcy surrounded the domestic scene. 

     She looked up and smiled. “You must have had a rough day.”

     “I’ve had better.”

     He approached her and lightly touched the baby’s head, then ran the back of his fingers against Meg’s exposed breast.

     “Dinner’s in the warmer on the stove.”

     “Thanks.  I’m not very hungry.  What is it?”  Before she could answer he held his hand up, palm facing her.  “Please don’t tell me it’s beef.”

     The baby had drifted off and stopped suckling.  Meg placed her gently in her lap and buttoned up her dress.  Then, cradling the child, she rose and walked toward the room Annie shared with Beth.  She placed her in her bed and covered her.

     “It’s not.  I fried some fish.  There’s that and hash browns and vegetables.”

     “I’m not very hungry,” he repeated.

     “Adam, you have to eat.  Go wash up and I’ll put it out on the kitchen table.”

     He ambled off in the direction of the kitchen, while she checked the baby one more time.  Their kitchen was very modern by any standards.  He had a pump rigged up at the soapstone sink, so Meg didn’t have to haul water from the well.  He had surprised her one day by bringing home an ice box.

     “I don’t need that,” she had exclaimed, while examining the new addition to the large room.  “We have a perfectly nice spring house and many things keep well in the cellar.”

     “I want you to have it,” he insisted.  “This way you don’t have to run back and forth to the spring house.  And I don’t like you climbing up and down the cellar ladder all the time.  It’ll save you some work.  I’ll make sure there’s always ice in the upper compartment and the boys can be responsible for emptying the drip tray.”

     “You’re spoiling me,” she told him with a smile, then kissed him in appreciation for his thoughtfulness.

     “I wish you’d get some permanent help in here,” he responded.  He had been after her for some time to hire someone to help with the housework.

     “I don’t need anyone.  You keep bringing home all these modern conveniences.  There’s hardly anything for me to do.”

     He knew this wasn’t true.  She was busy from morning till night minding the children, cooking, cleaning, mending, sewing, tending her garden, and taking care of all the other domestic chores.  And she always made sure they had a little time together.  He wondered sometimes where she got all her energy.

     Adam washed up and as he was drying off Meg came into the kitchen and placed the warm plate in front of him.  He sat down and she asked, “What would you like to drink?”

     “A beer.”

     She chuckled. “You know we don’t have any beer.  You have to go into town for that.”

     “Then I guess a glass of cold water…a really big glass,” he answered.

     After getting the water, she sat down opposite him, watching him pick at his food.  That should have been a clue to her that he was extremely tired and perhaps not quite up to another discussion about the future of their older son’s education.   But she missed it.

     “I thought of another reason why Adam shouldn’t go to school in town,” she began, picking a piece of hash brown potato off his plate and eating it.  He didn’t reply, continuing to move food around his plate in a desultory fashion.

     “We’ve tried to raise him to be somewhat refined in his tastes and thinking.  Mixing with all those town children, he could pick up all sorts of unacceptable ideas and behavior.  Some of those young people are very rough.”

     This caught Adam’s attention.  He put down the fork and looked her in the eye. “I never figured you to be a snob, Meg.  I grew up mixing with “all sorts” of people in town, some of whom were much rougher than anyone you’ve ever met here.  It didn’t seem to have a bad effect on me…unless you think differently?”

     His response flustered her. “I don’t think that wanting the best for your children makes you a snob.  And of course I didn’t really mean… that is…of course I don’t think that you…”

     He cut her off in mid-sentence. “What you mean is that you want to raise the boy to be a sissy.”  He pushed the plate away from him and rose from the table. “I’m tired of all this nonsense.  The decision is legally mine and he’s going to school.  And I’m going to take and bath and get some sleep.”

     With that he stalked out of the room.

     She couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d reached over the table and slapped her.  Angry, indignant tears flooded her eyes.  She wiped them away impatiently with the back of her hand.  Her husband had always treated her with respect and that included respecting her opinions.  They didn’t always agree, but he never laughed at her ideas or discounted their validity.  She had believed that he felt that she was an equal partner in their marriage.  But now!  Now he was claiming his “legal right” to disregard her feelings and wishes.    She would have never believed he could be capable of such behavior. 

     Domestic issues and childcare took up the remainder of her day.  By the time she crawled into bed Adam was already asleep.  She watched him and for a moment her heart softened.  He must have been very tired to go to bed so early.  Why hadn’t she realized that?  She hadn’t paid much attention, but apparently the problems with the cattle persisted.  She hated it when they argued.  It made her feel very much alone.

       It was times like this when she missed Boston desperately.  Of course she had made friends in Nevada, but sometimes she still felt like an outsider.  Carrie was as much a Cartwright as any of the men, and Rebecca was so deliriously happy in her present circumstances that Meg felt she wouldn’t understand such feelings.  In fact, Meg felt disloyal just feeling them.  But she couldn’t prevent the waves of homesickness that occasionally washed over her.  Instead of seeing her life in Boston as one of loneliness and poverty, she remembered only the good…her Aunt Beatrice, her friends, the rollicking Bonelli family, her satisfaction with her work, and her beloved ocean.  The sadness would pass as soon as all was right between her and Adam again, and she would remind herself of how much better off she was in Nevada with a husband she adored, four beautiful children, a warm and loving extended family, and a secure future.

     As these thoughts raced through her mind, the word “legal” also made an appearance.  All sympathy suddenly evaporated and the feelings of anger resurfaced.  Why couldn’t Adam see things her way on this subject?   To be fair, he had given her what he thought were good reasons for their son to attend the public school.  And maybe her last point about mixing with all types of children did sound conceited and snobbish.

     In Boston she had had friends from every economic level, but it was different in Nevada.  Adam had introduced her to a number of people who were very peculiar according to Eastern standards.  There were several women who wore pants, just like a man, and their manners were incredibly rough.   Good hygiene wasn’t a high priority for some of the men.  Once she had suggested that they give some of Adam’s old clothes to a particularly poorly dressed old rancher that stopped them in town for a word with her husband.

     “He doesn’t need them,” he replied to her suggestion.  “Old Barney has plenty of money.”

      “Then why doesn’t he buy some decent clothes?”

     Adam shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I think he’d rather spend his money over in the saloon.”  When she raised an eyebrow, he added, “I told you that people here aren’t like those back East, didn’t I?   Barney’s a good man, honest and hard working.  It’s not our business to criticize how he dresses or what he does with his money.  Sweetheart, you have to remember there’s a different way of judging people out here.”

        And she learned he was right.  When she got to know these new people she realized that they were, for the most part, struggling against mighty odds to make a living and a home for themselves in this rough part of the country.  They were unselfish to a fault, kind, and decent.  They could surely be forgiven their little oddities.  Many she now counted as friends.  She learned to reserve judging anyone that her husband introduced her to.  Though a number of them were rather eccentric, none were bad people. Adam had commented more than once that he was proud of the way she treated everyone kindly, without regard to Eastern concepts of ‘social standing’.  She realized her remarks had disappointed him and she regretted them.

    Still, she wasn’t as distressed over his disagreeing with her as she was with the way in which he had ended the discussion.  She scuttled as far away from her husband as she could get and fell into a fitful sleep.

     And now she was back at the stove preparing supper while Adam hammered four nails into a spool for Beth.  He had been busy all day, leaving almost before dawn.  There had been little opportunity for conversation, for which she was grateful.  He knew she was angry but he couldn’t possibly know how angry.  The trouble was she wasn’t sure what to do next.  She had had hours and hours to think about what he had said.  Instead of asking herself why her son’s attendance at the public school was upsetting her so, she dwelt on her husband’s angry last words on the subject.   Her indignation and ire were growing nicely, stewing within her just like the meat in the pot she was stirring.    

     Supper was a rather silent affair.  Then there were the evening chores, stories to be read to the children, and bedtime.  Their personal quiet hour together was exactly that…quiet.  Finally Meg packed up her knitting and said, “I’m going to bed.”

     She lay there miserably till Adam joined her.  To her amazement, he reached over for her and began to nuzzle her neck.  She remained inert and unresponsive.

     “What’s the matter?” he whispered seductively, batting her earlobe playfully with his tongue.  His voice was deep, rich, and smooth as silk.  His hand caressed her waist and began to slide up toward her breast.  “Not in the mood tonight?  Too tired?”

     She waited just a second before replying coolly, “It doesn’t really matter, does it?  You just go right on whether I’m in the mood or not.  I wouldn’t want to be accused of denying you your legal rights.”

     He froze in place.  It was just as well that it was dark in the bedroom.  She couldn’t see his face, but his voice, now quietly angry and full of contempt, said it all.

     “I’m a patient man, Meg, but I don’t like playing these kinds of games.  If you don’t want me to touch you, just say so.  I won’t come anywhere near you.”  And he flung the covers aside and strode out of the room.    

     She lay there for a minute.  Instead of being filled with glee that her verbal arrow had struck home, she was appalled at herself.   She rose slowly and moved toward the door.  She could see Adam sitting on the couch facing the empty fireplace.  She was filled with shame at what she had said to him and what it had implied.  She understood that some women considered sex a duty that had to be performed periodically to satisfy the desires of their husbands and to beget children.  Their marriage bed had never been like that.  It was a place of joy, laughter, tenderness, and love as well as physical satisfaction.  Adam had always been a considerate and patient lover.  The physical aspect of their relationship had improved over the years.  Now she had told him that she would grant him his legal rights.  She didn’t know which concept was more repulsive…the notion that he had rights over her body because of a piece of paper, or that he could receive these rights only if she was willing to grant them.

     “Adam?”  She approached him slowly, chewing on her lower lip.

     He looked up but didn’t say anything.

     “Adam, I’m sorry about what I just said.  It was a hateful thing to say and I’m not sure why I…” her voice trailed off softly.

     He continued to look at her, his expression unreadable.  Though his face could be extremely expressive, he had the ability to hide his feelings and thoughts behind an unsettlingly blank visage. 

     “Actually,” she continued, “I do know why I said it.  It was to get back at you because you said you had the legal right to decide about Adam’s schooling.”

     He remained silent.  It was unnerving.  She began to panic, thinking she had done more damage than she had the ability to correct.  Words were powerful things and she was sure she had gone too far.  She remembered his tone of voice back in the bedroom and shivered.

     “What I said to you was much worse than what you said to me,” she went on, nervously playing with the material of her nightgown.  “You were tired and hot and said what you said just to shut me up.  I know I’ve nagged you about this for the last few weeks.  If I had had the sense to see that you didn’t want to…well, I didn’t.  I just kept on and on about it.  So that was really my fault.”

     Silence.

     She moved a bit closer.  Her heart was beating a rapid tattoo in her chest   Had those few nasty sentences she uttered forever changed their relationship?

     “What I said was worse because I said it to hurt you.”  Her eyes were now filling with tears.  “I wanted to hurt you because I was hurt by what you said.  But you see the difference, don’t you?  You didn’t mean to make me feel bad.  So what I did was much worse.  It was calculated.  It was…” She couldn’t choke out any more words.  Her chin was wobbling and she pressed her fist to her lips.

     He held out his hand. “Come here.”

     She practically launched her self into his arms.  Tears streamed down her face and she was sobbing in earnest. “I’m sorry!  I didn’t mean it!  Can you forgive me?” she blubbered into the front of his nightshirt.

     He stroked her back and held her quietly, saying nothing except “shhh, shhh” until her weeping was reduced to a few pathetic hiccups.  She took a deep breath, pulled back and looked up into his face.

     “I really am sorry for what I said.  I don’t know what’s come over me lately.  I don’t know why I’m behaving so emotionally.  Sometimes I don’t even recognize myself.”  She paused and wiped her nose with the back of her nightgown sleeve, just as a child might.  “Do you hate me?”

     Finally his expression softened. “I could never hate you.”

      She collapsed with relief against him and lay there silently for a minute.  Then she snuggled closer to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “What’s wrong with me?”

     “Are you pregnant?”

     She heaved herself away from his chest and stared at him. “No!”

     He smiled. “Well, then, that’s not it.  You get a little touchy sometimes when you are.”

     She punched him playfully, then resumed her former position.  He kissed the top of her head.

     “Adam’s going to go to school in town, sweetheart.  I just can’t figure out why you’re so dead set against it.”

     “I thought I gave you a lot of reasons.”

     “Yes, and some of them were legitimate.  But you’re over reacting.  I’m not sure why.”

     She sighed.  “I want him to have the best education we can give him.  I want him to go to college.  He’s smart and he could be anything he wanted to be if he was given the chance.  Don’t you want that for him too?  I think his opportunities are limited in Virginia City.”

     He didn’t answer her right away. “I grew up here and managed to go to college…a very fine college.  I came back because it was my choice.  I could have stayed out east.  The opportunities were there.  But this is my home and I came back.  I’ve been able to put some of my education to good use here on the ranch.”

     “As much as you wanted to?”  She knew this was a sore point with him.

     “No, not as much as I wanted to, but enough to give me a sense of satisfaction.  I want Adam to have those choices as well.  You’re right.  He’s smart.  He’s also mature for his age and he’ll be a good student.  I have no doubt that he’ll get into college if that’s what he wants to do.   But you have to accept that as he gets older he’s going to make more decisions for himself.  We can guide him, but that’s it.  Would it bother you so much if he decided he wanted to be a rancher and maybe didn’t want to go to college?”

     “No,” she answered honestly.  “I married a rancher.  But ranching is such hard work.  I see how difficult it is sometimes for you and your father and brothers.  I just thought that with an education he might choose some job that’s a little easier.  Do you think he might choose not to go to college?”

     “I think that it’s much too soon to talk about college when he’s not even eight years old.  What other things bother you about his going to school in town?”  

     She repositioned herself again to get more comfortable. “Well…I know you called me a snob, but I’m very worried about the types of children he’ll be exposed to in town.  I’ve seen them when I go shopping.  Some of them are loud and rough and even rude.  I don’t want him to be a sissy, but we’ve raised him to be polite and respectful.  Who knows what kinds of bad behavior he may try to imitate?”

     Adam tilted her chin up so he could look her in the eyes. “Listen, dear heart, sooner or later he’ll meet those kinds of people.  It’s better that he does it now, so we can watch his reactions and correct any behavior we don’t like.  We’ve had more than seven years to instill our values in him.  Now it’s time to see what he does with them.”  And he started to chuckle.

     “What’s so funny?” she demanded.

     “I was just thinking about me…how old I was when my values were tested.”  He chuckled and shook his head.  “Poor Pa!”

     He had her complete attention.

     “Are you saying there was a time when you weren’t perfectly behaved?” she asked incredulously.  “I can’t believe that!”

      “Oh, there was a time alright.  But I was older and the trouble I got into was much worse than anything a seven-year-old could.  Oh, don’t get me wrong,” he added, seeing the look on her face.  “I didn’t do anything very bad, but compared to how I was before, well, my father didn’t know what to make of me.  So he sent me off to college.”

     “Oh Adam, tell me about it!” she asked, snuggling closer.  It was difficult to believe her husband had ever been anything other than a model child.

     “Okay. Well, I was pretty well behaved when I was little.  Then Pa married Marie and she kept me more or less in line, when we’d finally made our peace.”  Meg was aware of the fact that Adam hadn’t taken to Marie when Ben first brought her home.

     “After she died,” he continued, “I met up with two brothers…the Bonner brothers.  I was about seventeen.  They intrigued me because they lived life so differently than the way I had been brought up.  They were wild, drinking and carousing on the weekends.  They didn’t go to school.  They’d dropped out long ago.  They worked here and there as ranch hands, mostly doing dirty jobs that no one else wanted.  When they had a few dollars saved they’d quit and go out and raise Cain. 

    Pa kept me on a short leash, but I started sneaking out on Friday nights to be with them.  Then it was on weeknights.  I began to be late for breakfast and a few times I overslept altogether.   As you can imagine, my father wasn’t amused.  The last straw was when Roy Coffee put me in jail for drunk and disorderly behavior.  Pa hadn’t been keen on me going to college…didn’t see the need of it for a rancher, which is what he assumed I’d be.  But he packed me off to Boston really fast.”

     “You didn’t put up a fuss?  I mean, just being sent off like that?”

     “Nope.  I’d always loved going to school.  Plus it was a chance to go somewhere else and see new things.  Oh, I protested a little bit, but secretly I was thrilled.”

     Meg shook her head in disbelief.  “I would never in a million years have thought that you would have behaved like that!”  She pulled his head down and kissed him.  “Even after ten years of marriage we can still learn things about each other, I guess,” she said softly.

     He kissed the tips of her fingers. “I learned something too.  I learned my kitten has claws I didn’t know about.”

     Her eyes grew sad. “I truly am sorry for what I said.  Do you forgive me?”

     He kissed her woebegone face. “Yes, I forgive you.  You were provoked, I suppose.  I ought to watch what I say too.”

     They sat quietly for a few minutes.  Then Adam began to chuckle.

     “What’s so funny?” she demanded.

     “It seems like this is a night for memories.  If I recall, the night I proposed to you we ended up in exactly this position on Pa’s settee.  And you fell asleep.  Then I carried you off to bed and kissed you, very chastely, I might add.”  He paused, smiled, and looked off into the distance.  “I wonder if I can still…?”  And with that he slipped his free arm under Meg’s knees, and with one fluid motion stood up with her in his arms. 

      She giggled. “Are you going to carry me off to bed again?”

     “Mmm hmm.  But tonight’s going to end a little differently from that night,” he said with a wink.

     Meg carefully wrapped the sandwich she had made for young Adam in butcher paper.  She had buttered two large slices of fresh bread and placed plenty of thinly sliced chicken between them, then neatly cut it in two with her favorite kitchen knife.  She wrapped several freshly scraped carrot sticks in more paper and placed them in his lunch pail with the sandwich.  Then she added an apple and two large oatmeal raisin cookies, her son’s favorite.  She snapped the lid on, turned and handed it to the boy.

     A lump grew in her throat when she looked at him.  He was dressed in his second best set of clothes, face scrubbed clean, hair neatly slicked back, boots polished, and he was holding his brand new slate.  He looked so very young to her, but she had promised Adam that she wouldn’t make a scene on this important occasion.  So she swallowed the lump, bent down and hugged him tight.

     “Education is a very important thing, Adam,” she said.  Your Pa and I are counting on you to do your very best and take advantage of this opportunity.  I know you’ll behave properly and do what your teacher says.  And Peter, Eric, and Mary will be there so you’ll know people.”

     “I know, Mama.  You told me that before.”

     “I guess I did.”  She hugged him one more time.

     “Let’s go outside.  We don’t want you to be late on your first day.”

     She scooped Annie out of her high chair and Beth and Jesse followed them out solemnly.  To Adam, waiting in the buckboard, it looked like a funeral procession. 

     “Let’s go,” he called out, and the little group hurried their pace.

     “Will you bring him right home after school?” Meg asked anxiously, as their son climbed into the buggy.

     “I can’t.  I have to stop by Pa’s on the way back.  Expect us at supper time.”

     “That long!” she protested.

     “Can’t be helped.  By the end of the week he’ll be riding his pony back and forth and he’ll be home sooner.  You have a good day.”  To prevent prolonging the goodbye, he slapped the reins and they drove off.

     Caring for three children under six years old kept Meg busy enough so that she didn’t have much time to fret.  Before she knew it, Jesse was running outside shouting, “Adam’s home from school!”  She grabbed Annie and hurried outside with Beth right behind her, just as her older boy was hopping down off the buckboard.

     “Well, how was it?” she asked, giving him a hug. 

     “It was okay,” was all he said.

     “Tell me all about it,” she pressed, taking his lunch pail and slate from him.

     “Can I tell you later, Mama?  Pa said I could play a little before dinner.  Do I hafta change my clothes?”

     She was taken aback, but decided not to demand that he give her a full accounting just then.  That could wait for dinnertime.

     “Do you have homework?”

     “A little.”

     “Then go change your clothes and go out and play for a while.  We’ll be eating in about half an hour.  You can do your homework later.”

     “Thanks!”  And with that he scampered off, with Jesse in hot pursuit.

     She ambled over to her husband who was unhitching the horses.

     “Did he say anything to you about school?  Did he like it?”

     “I asked him.  He said it was okay.”  He freed the first horse from its traces.

     “That was all?  Just okay?”  Beth grabbed hold of the gentle old horse’s bridle and led it out of the way.

     “That’s all he said.  I didn’t ask any more.  I didn’t want to hound him with questions.  We can ask him about it at dinner.”  He freed the second horse and they all walked toward the barn. 

     “Well he didn’t seem overly enthusiastic,” she remarked, as Adam led one horse into its stall.

     “He didn’t seem unhappy either.  Let it go till dinner.”  And he led the second animal into its place.  “When are we eating?”

     “Half an hour.  I’ll ring the bell.”

     He reached out and took Annie from her.  Beth was dancing around at his feet. “Leave the girls with me.  Then you can finish making dinner in peace.”

     Seeing that further talk was futile, Meg went back into the house.

     Thirty minutes later they were all seated around the table.  Adam was busy carving the roast while Meg tied napkins around the neck of each child and filled their glasses with milk.  She took her place and they said grace.  As Adam placed meat on each plate, Meg added potatoes, gravy, vegetables, and a slice of bread and butter.  She cut the meat for the younger children and handed them their plates.  

     As he got older, Adam had learned to appreciate his father’s dictate that dinner be a peaceful meal.  Ben had tried, not always successfully, to make the final meal of the day a pleasant affair.  Adam and Meg followed the rules that they had been brought up with.  At the table children did not speak unless spoken to.   

     Dinner had just begun when Jesse noticed his mother had not cut his meat.  He looked up in surprise as Adam handed him a knife.

     “Your mother and I thought you’re old enough now to cut your own meat, Jesse.  That knife is sharp.  You be careful with it,” he said with a smile.

     With all the fuss being made over Adam’s first day at school, his parents had decided that this was the evening to extend a new privilege to their second child.  His face lit up with delight as he took the utensil.

     “Thanks, Pa,” he said, and carefully began to cut the tender Ponderosa beef.  

      Each of their children had been blessed with good health and hearty appetites.  Meg was dying to ask Adam about school, but her motherly instincts overrode her curiosity.   She waited until he was on his second helpings before she said, “Why don’t you tell us about what you did in school today, Adam.”

    He swallowed the food in his mouth and took a drink of milk before answering. “Well, we did spelling and sums and reading in the morning.  Then after lunch we learned some history and geography.”

     That was as forthcoming as he was.  He stuck another piece of meat in his mouth and chewed.  His mother was undeterred by his short answer.

     “Are you in any classes with the twins?”

     “Some,” was all she received in reply. 

      Her husband hid his smile.  He was sure she was frustrated by their boy’s brief responses.

     “Well, which ones?” Meg persisted.

     Again the youngster took his time in answering. “Well…,” he drew the word out.  “Eric and I are together for reading and arithmetic.  Peter is one class behind us and Mary’s one class ahead.  And they’re all ahead of me in history and geography.”

     Adam watched in amusement as his wife’s face flamed.  So much for her theory that the boy was “too smart” for public school!

     Meg quickly changed the subject to hide her embarrassment. “Did you make any new friends today?”

     Suddenly the child’s tongue was loosened.  He grinned from ear to ear and answered with great enthusiasm.

     “Yeah!  I met a new boy named Charlie Merrick.  He’s real nice.”

     “Merrick, Merrick,” his mother mumbled as she thought.  “I don’t believe I know the family, do you Adam?” she asked her husband.

     “I don’t recognize the name.  Where do they live, son?”

     “I think east of Virginia City, Pa.”

     Meg’s wrinkled her nose.  The eastern part of Virginia City was the seediest part of town.  But she refrained from making any derogatory remarks, mentally warning herself against snobbery.

     “Well, that’s nice, Adam.  What’s Charlie like?” she asked.

     This was apparently a topic upon which the boy could easily elaborate. “Oh, he’s swell!  He knows about a lot of stuff and he let me switch lunches with him.”

     His mother’s eyebrows shot up. “Switch lunches?  You mean you didn’t eat that nice lunch I made for you?”  She stopped when she saw the worried look on the child’s face.  Better not to make too much of this, she thought.  She altered her tone.

     “It’s alright,” she assured him, as she buttered more bread for Beth.  “Well, then I know what Charlie ate for lunch,” she said, with a rather forced smile.  “Just what did you eat?”

     Reassured by her changed attitude young Adam replied, “His mother gave him some nice, homemade fried squirrel.”

     Meg’s mouth dropped open.  The look on her face was so comical that her husband hid his laughter by coughing into his napkin.  He had to give her credit though.  She fought valiantly to maintain her composure.  She closed her mouth and took several calming breaths.  With a certain amount of timidity she asked, “What else did his mother make besides the…the…squirrel?”  She could barely pronounce the word.

     “Nothing else.  That’s it.  But she gave him a lot,” young Adam replied as he bit into his bread.  He swallowed carefully before adding, “And you know what he did, Pa?  Before he ate any of my lunch he spit all over it.”

     This remark caused his brother Jesse to pay closer attention.  Charlie Merrick sounded like someone he’d like to meet.  He wasn’t allowed to speak, but fortunately his father asked the question that was uppermost in his mind at that moment.

     “Why’d he do that?”

     Young Adam shrugged. “He said it was so no one else would try and eat his lunch.”

     “Well I know your mother made you an especially nice lunch.  Were there other kids who wanted it too?”

     “No.  He just said it was something he did.”

     “Oh.”

      Meg sat there slack jawed, her fork suspended between her plate and her mouth, as her husband and son discussed this disgusting behavior with no more emotion than if they had been discussing the weather. 

      Her son turned to her. “I only gave him one of my cookies, Mama.  I really like them and you gave me two so I only gave him one.  Do you think that was fair?”

     She appeared to be speechless, so his father kicked in, “I think it was very fair.  He didn’t complain did he?”

     Meg began to fume silently.  Complain?  That child had traded what, in her opinion, was fried rodent for her son’s lovingly prepared meal.  He had better not have complained!

     “No.  He said my lunch wasn’t too bad.”

     It took a real effort not to laugh out loud as Adam watched his wife’s face grow scarlet again.  He could only imagine what she was thinking so he decided to change the topic.

     “So you said that Charlie knows a lot of things.  What kinds of things?  Is he a good student?”  Adam hoped that a positive response to this would mollify his wife’s feelings in regards to the lunch situation.  And he noticed that Meg was paying close attention to the answer as she put some food on Annie’s spoon and helped their baby guide the utensil to her little mouth.

     “Well, he’s not in any of my classes, Pa.  He’s behind me some in school work.”  But the little boy was loyal to his new friend and quickly added, “But that’s not the kind of stuff I meant.  He knows about a lot of other stuff.”

     His father put down his water glass and wiped his mouth. “Like what?”

     “Well, he told me that if you grind pepper in the pepper mill and sniff it, it can make you sneeze!  I never knew that before.”

     Jesse’s head snapped around to look at his brother.  From the mention of the word “squirrel” his attitude toward this school business had changed.  He had felt that an awful fuss had been made over it, but apparently there was some merit to public education. There seemed to be more interesting things that you could learn than just letters and numbers. 

     Meanwhile, Meg was shooting venomous glances at her husband, who had hidden his smile behind his hand.  He coughed and then replied, “That is an interesting piece of information, although I’m not sure what its practical uses are.  What other kinds of things does he know?”

     “Well, Pa, the best thing he told me was that if you light a match and hold it next to your butt when you fart, you can make a flame!  Did you know that?”

     “WOW! No kiddin’!” Rules or no rules, Jesse couldn’t help let that slip out.  He looked at his brother with profound admiration.  Maybe if he was lucky, Adam would bring this Charlie Merrick around some day and he could meet him.

     But his older brother didn’t answer him.  He was puzzled by his parents’ behavior.  His mother had folded her napkin with exaggerated care and stood up.  Her posture was positively regal.

     “Excuse me.  I’ve had enough,” was all she said, but something in the way she said it made him take note.  She had also given his father a strange look.  He wondered if anything he had said caused her to leave so suddenly.  She was usually the last person to leave the table, not the first.

     But his father probably hadn’t noticed any of this.  He was behaving strangely as well.  Adam wasn’t sure if Pa was choking or laughing.  He had covered his mouth with his napkin and his shoulders were shaking as he made some very strange noises.

     “Are you alright, Pa?” he asked with concern.

     His father nodded vigorously but still didn’t speak.

     “Did I say something wrong?” he asked.

     Napkin still firmly in place, Adam shook his head back and forth. 

     The boy looked at his brother Jesse and shrugged.  Finally his father, apparently recovered, placed the napkin on the table and stood up.  He coughed a little again.

     “You four stay here and finish up.  When you’re all done I want Adam and Beth to clear this table.  Jesse, you mind Annie.  I need to speak to your mother for a little while.  We’ll have dessert later.  Any questions?”

     “No, Pa.”

     “Good.  Make sure you do as I say.”  With that he headed for the front door.

     For a minute the children were speechless.  They could never remember dinner ending so abruptly or in such a peculiar manner.

     “Whatsa matter with Mama?” Beth asked, putting down her glass of milk and watching her parents exit the room, one after the other. Annie, blissfully unaware of the tensions at the table, was putting pieces of potato on her spoon with her chubby fingers, and then trying, with mixed success, to maneuver the spoon into her mouth.

     “I dunno,” Adam answered.  “I hope she isn’t mad at me.  Whadda ya think, Jesse?”

     “Nah!  She’s not mad at you.  She’s mad a Pa.  She looked at him real mean before she went outside.”

     “Why?”

     “I dunno,” the younger boy answered with a shrug.  “But she ain’t mad at you.  Say Adam, what did it taste like?”

     “What are you talking about?”

     “The squirrel!  You said you ate fried squirrel for lunch.  What did it taste like?”

     His brother considered the question carefully before answering. “Well, it tasted…it was kinda tough and..and stringy, but…it tasted sorta like…well, I guess sorta like… chicken,” was the disappointing response.

     He found her out by the corral.  She was standing on the bottom rung of the fencing, her arms crossed on the top rail, her behind sticking out slightly as she rested her chin on her forearms.  Adam resisted the temptation to give her a pat on her bottom.  He knew she wasn’t in the mood for that right now.  He stepped up on the bottom rail next to her and for a moment they watched two newborn foals frolicking with each other inside the enclosure. 

     “This is all your fault.”

     “Mmm hmm.”

     She turned to look at him. “That’s all you’ve got to say?  Mmm hmm?”

     “What would you like me to say?  The conversation at the dinner table wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t insisted he go to school, so, you’re right.  It’s my fault.” 

     She stepped off the railing and put her hands on her hips. “Well, what are you going to do about it?”

     “What would you like me to do about it?”

     He had stepped off the railing and was facing her. His arms were crossed and his calm, unruffled manner was beginning to annoy her.

     “For starters, he doesn’t go to school any more.  I’ll teach him at home.”

     Adam shook his head. “No.  He’ll be going back tomorrow.”

      “Adam! This is just the sort of thing I was afraid of.  He’s taken up with a hooligan who’s teaching him all kinds of crude and uncouth things.  You heard him!  And that monster ate his lovely lunch and fed him fried rat!  I don’t want him associating with people like that.”

     “He traded his lunch for fried squirrel,” Adam said, “and we’ve eaten game before. What’s the problem?”

     “Squirrel doesn’t fit my definition of ‘game’, Adam.   It’s nothing more than a rat with a fuzzy tail.  And he didn’t even get to eat his vegetables or the apple I packed.  I’ll bet he gets sick tonight!”

     “I’ll speak to him about trading his lunch,” he offered.

     “It’s more than that and you know it.  What kind of person spits on his food before he eats it?  Or sniffs pepper to make himself sneeze?  Or…or…that other thing.”  She couldn’t bring herself to describe the “best” piece of knowledge that Charlie Merrick had imparted to her beloved son.  “And using that kind of language at the table!”

     “He only told him about something that mankind has known since some unfortunate caveman stood with his back too close to his campfire after dinner one night.”

     She threw her hands up in disgust. “I didn’t know about it and I could have lived the rest of my life very nicely, thank you, with out knowing about it!  Aren’t I considered part of mankind?” 

     “No, you’re part of womankind and that’s where the difference lies.”

     Meg crossed her arms and tapped her foot angrily on the ground. “Don’t play verbal games with me, Adam.  What are you talking about?”

     He sighed and uncrossed his arms.  He took a step closer but didn’t touch her.

    “Look,” he began in his most reasonable tone of voice, “little boys go through a stage where they delight in being crude.  They find any references to normal bodily functions especially funny.  They try to outdo each other in making what you’d consider uncouth and rude remarks.  The more disgusting they can be, the better.  It’s normal.  It’s how boys are.  They outgrow it.”

     “Oh really?” she said sarcastically.  “When?”

     He smiled. “When they discover girls.  Girls don’t find that type of behavior funny or attractive, so they stop it…at least in front of the girls.  You see?  That’s why God created females…so you could make us rude, rough savages behave and acquire at least a veneer of respectability.”

     As he watched, all the fight suddenly seemed to go out of her.  Her shoulders slumped.  She appeared as deflated as a popped balloon.  She shook her head sadly and sighed.

     “I just want the best for him.  I don’t want him to be a sissy, but I don’t want him turning into a little hellion either.  Of all the children there, why did he have to pick this Charlie Merrick as his friend?”

     Adam put his arm around her shoulder and his hand under her chin.  He tilted her face up so he could look into her eyes. “Maybe because he’s about as different from us as a kid could possibly be.  That’s what attracted me to the Bonner brothers.  Or maybe Charlie Merrick sought him out.  I don’t know.”

     His heart went out to her.  She really was worried.  He had to try to set her mind at ease.

     “Listen, I’m going to talk to him about everything.  I suspected something like this might happen, but I didn’t think you’d get hit with so much all at once.  And I’ll make sure he knows not to trade his lunches anymore.”  They had begun to walk back to the house. 

      Meg stopped him. “No…wait.  Tell him he can trade lunches with the twins or Mary.  I guess that won’t be as much fun as switching with other kids but…” She bit her lip.  “And tomorrow I’ll make two sandwiches and put in two apples and more vegetables.  Then he can share his lunch with his friend.  Only…Adam…I really don’t like the idea of him eating squirrel.”

     He smiled at her. “That’s a good idea…very diplomatic.  Leave the rest to me.  I’ll make sure he understands what type of behavior and language is acceptable around here.”

     She put her arms around him and hugged him. “Thanks.” She looked up and tilted her head.  Her face was rosy. “Adam?”

     “Hmm?”

     “Is that true?”

     “Is what true?”

     “What Charlie Merrick said about the match and…and…you know.”

      He started to shake with laughter. “Are you curious?” he asked.  “Am I going to have to hide the matches from you so you don’t go and set yourself on fire?”

     She slapped at him rather ineffectually, because he had his arms around her.

     “No,” she huffed indignantly.  “I just wanted to know.”  She tried to pull away but he held her. “Oh never mind!”   And she continued to try and free herself from his embrace.

     “It’s true.”

     Her eyes popped open. “Did you ever…” she let her voice trail off.

     “No.”

     She stopped struggling and looked at him through narrowed eyes. “Then just how do you know that?” she demanded.

     He was still chuckling. “Let’s just say I know and leave it at that.”  He released her.

     She faced him with hands on hips. “I told you this school business was no good.  I don’t think he should go back tomorrow.”

     “Oh, but he has to.”

     “Why?”

     “Apparently his previous teacher was negligent.  Didn’t you hear him say he was behind in history and geography?”

     She turned and punched him on the arm. “You are the most infuriating man on the face of the earth!” she said with mock anger.

     “So you’ve said before.  But it’s really your own fault.  You always rise to the bait.  And you’re kinda cute when you get angry.” 

     She looked up at him and burst out laughing, then shook her head. “I guess I must love you a lot to put up with such a smart aleck.”

     He slipped his arm around her waist. “Luckily for me, I guess you’re right.”  He gave her a hearty kiss, then smacked her on her bottom. “Now let’s go have dessert.”    

                                       Saturday—Three Weeks Later

     “Scuse me.  You Miz Cartwright?”

     Meg looked up in surprise.  She was sitting on the porch reading and keeping an eye on Annie, who was crawling around after the dog.

     “Yes, I am.  Can I help you?”

     “I’m Charlie Merrick.  I come to see if Adam can play fer a while.  Ain’t he home?”  The boy proceeded to scan the yard.

     The child before her was as diametrically opposed to her image of Charlie Merrick as any being could be.  He was a slight boy, smaller even than Jesse.  His blond hair, badly in need of cutting in Meg’s opinion, fell across a round face.  He had a snub nose and more freckles than there were stars in the evening sky.  His clothes appeared to be clean, though his pants reached only to his calves and one suspender hung down over his shoulder.   And, in spite of the cold weather, he was barefoot.  Not seeing his friend, he looked back up at her.  In spite of herself, she couldn’t help but smile.

     “Adam and his brother are at the pond behind the house,” she said pointing.  “I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you, Charlie.”

     “Thanks, ma’am,” he replied and scampered off. 

                                                   That Evening

     “Everybody in for the night?” Adam asked, as he sank back in his chair with the newspaper.

     “Mmm hmm.  I’m sorry you had to work all day today.  You look exhausted.  And we missed you at dinner,” Meg answered.  She stroked her husband’s head and bent over to kiss him gently.

      He grabbed her hand and kissed the palm. “A few more weeks of this cold weather and we’ll begin to drive some of the herds from the higher elevations back down for the winter.  Then things will be easier.”

     Meg dropped into her own chair and took up her knitting.

     “You’ll never guess who came by today, Adam.”

     “Why not just tell me?  I’m too tired to play guessing games.”   

     “Charlie Merrick.”

     He lowered the paper and eyed his wife speculatively. “Oh?”

     “Mmm hmm.  I was on the porch with Annie when he seemed to appear out of nowhere.  Adam, he wasn’t anything at all like I’d imagined.”  She gave him a description of the little boy.

     “Well you’re not wrinkling your nose or making critical remarks so I guess you didn’t find him too offensive,” Adam remarked.

     She put the knitting down. “It’s the most peculiar thing.  I felt sorry for him.  In spite of the cold weather he was barefoot and not dressed very warmly.  I suppose he walked all the way from Virginia City.  He stayed for lunch and put away an amazing amount of food…as if he didn’t often eat very well.  But he was clean and quite polite.  And then around four o’clock a wagon pulled up and a rough looking man began calling out for him.  Charlie and the boys were playing by the pond, but he came scampering back quick as anything and hopped up into the wagon.  I think the man was his father and he didn’t seem any too pleased that Charlie had been away from home so long.  He was yelling at him grabbed him by the collar and shook him, but he stopped when I came out onto the porch.  He tipped his hat to me and said “ma’am” and then drove off.”

     She got up and took a seat on the arm of Adam’s chair.

     “I think maybe you were right.  There are a lot of lessons to be learned in school that have nothing to do with the 3 R’s.  Our children are so lucky.  We can afford the very best for them.  I hope that they can learn compassion for those not as fortunate.”

     “And that money has nothing to do with friendship?” Adam added.

     She nodded. “That too.  Maybe instead of worrying if Charlie’s a bad influence, I can hope that our son is a good influence.  I suppose there are a few lessons in all this for me, as well,” she admitted, quietly.

     Adam put his paper aside and pulled her down onto his lap.

     “Hey!  I thought you were tired.”

     “I’m never too tired to hear you admit I was right about something,” he teased.

     “As I’ve said before, you are an infuriating smart aleck,” she responded, laughing.

     “But you love me anyway.”

     She draped her arms around his neck.

     “But I love you anyway,” she concurred.             

                                                       TOM MORRISON

     Adam watched as Davis drove away in the buggy with Beth and Annie.  A smile played around his lips.  He trotted off in the direction of the kitchen where Meg was doing dishes.

     “Hey, sweetheart, come to the barn for a minute.  I’ve got something to show you,” he said, walking through the back door.

     “Can it wait?  I’m not done yet,” she replied, wiping a bowl and placing it on the shelf.

     “Nope.  You have to come right now.”

     She frowned and wiped her hands on her apron. “Well, what is it?”

     He grabbed her hand and tugged her in the direction of the barn. “It’s a surprise.  Hurry up,” was all he would say as he pulled her after him.

     When they reached the barn he told her to climb up into the loft.

     She put her hands on her hips and tilted her head. “What’s going on?” she demanded.

     “I can’t tell you.  Just climb up into the loft.  I’ll be right behind you.”

     Shrugging, she did as he said.  When he had climbed up after her she turned to him and said, “Well, here I am.  Now what’s the big surprise?”

     He hooked his boot behind her ankle and with a gentle push on her shoulders, she toppled backwards into a soft pile of hay.  The hay was so deep that she didn’t even have the wind knocked out of her.  She struggled to bring herself upright on her elbows, but before she had managed to rise up even half way, Adam had his belt off and had fallen on top of her. His knee was between her legs and he supported his weight on his arms.  He laughed down into her face.

     “Surprised?”

     “You’re crazy, Adam!  What on earth are you thinking of?” she sputtered as she continued to try and get up. 

      He had her pinned so her efforts were futile. “I’m thinking it’s been a long time since we made love and I thought it might be fun to tumble you in the hay.  So here we are.”  And his grin showed just how pleased he was with himself.

     “We can’t do this!  What about the girls?” she protested, still struggling.

     “I asked Davis to take them for a ride for about an hour.  They just rode off.  The boys are in school and as for the dishes…well they can wait.”

     She had ceased struggling.  She looked him in the eye and shook her head. “You are most definitely insane,” she began, but he dropped down farther, resting his weight on his forearms, cutting her off.

     “I’m not crazy.  I’m horny.”

     As she watched, the look in his eyes changed from amusement to desire.  He had such lovely eyes, she thought.  They were a brownish-hazel that seemed to change shade depending on his mood.  His lashes were unfairly long.  And right now those eyes were speaking to her…and the message that they sent increased her heartbeat and created a familiar, exciting throbbing deep inside her.  What magic did he possess that he could still reduce her to this state after so many years of marriage?  Well, she’d ponder that later.  She lay back slowly and looped her arms around his neck. 

     “This is positively wanton,” she said softly.

     “I’ve always wanted a wanton woman,” he answered just before he covered her lips with his own.

     “Hey Adam!  I was just on my way out to your place.  I gotta talk to ya.”

     Adam had just dismounted and turned to see Sheriff Roy Coffee waving and calling to him. “Hi Roy.  What’s up?”

     “Well, I got some news that I think you need to hear.  You remember Tom Morrison?”

     Adam tossed Sport’s reins around the hitching post. “Yeah, I remember him.  Why?”

     “Well, I gotta tell ya that he’s outta prison.  He come to town last night and was askin’ about ya at the saloon and just about anywhere else he went.  Wanted to know all about what you was up to.  And I’m sorry to say that there was some folks who filled him in.  Told him all about how you was married, had a bunch a kids, and moved to your own place.  Filled him in real good on you and yours.  He always was a mean son of a gun, Adam, and I’m tellin’ ya that from what I saw, prison ain’t made him any nicer.”

     Adam’s face had shown growing concern and was now positively grim. “Where’s he now?”

     “I can’t rightly say.  That’s what got me so concerned.  He blamed you for the prison term and his wife divorcin’ him and all.  Figured he wasn’t asking all them questions so’s he could pay you a social call.”

     “Thanks Roy,” he said as he mounted up.  Before riding off her called out, “If you see my father or my brothers, tell them to get out to my place right away.”  And he kicked Sport into a gallop.

     Miss Sarah Drayton was in the midst of a lesson in long division when Adam Cartwright, a man she knew as a member of the Virginia City Board of Education and the father of two of her students, rushed into her classroom.

     “Excuse me, Miss Drayton.  May I speak to you for a minute?”

     She put down the pointer she had been holding. “Of course, Mr. Cartwright.”  She addressed the class of six students standing before her. “You may be seated, children.” She and Adam spoke briefly. 

      Jesse and young Adam watched with surprise and a touch of fear.  What was Pa doing here in the middle of the afternoon?  They were even more surprised when he strode toward them and said, “We’re going home now.  Let’s go.”

     They started to gather their books, slates, and lunch pail, but their father stopped them.

     “Leave them,” he said shortly.  Then he turned to their cousin Eric. “Eric, you and Peter take their things home with you.  And as soon as you see your father, tell him to get over to my house right away.” 

      His tone of voice left them no way to respond but, “Yes, Uncle Adam.”

     Outside Adam helped his older son onto his pony.  Jesse rode to school with his brother because Adam didn’t consider him responsible enough to have a mount of his own yet.

     “Think Diablo can keep up with Sport?” Adam asked the older boy.

     “I don’t know, Pa.  He’s awful fast but Sport…,”

     “Well, just do your best.  Stay as near to me as possible.”

     He mounted Sport and put a hand down for Jesse. “You’re going to ride with me, young man.”  And he hauled his son up behind him.

     “Pa, why are we..?”

     “No questions now, Jesse.  I’ll explain when we get home.  Hold on tight.  Adam, we’re not taking the road.  We’ll go the back way.  It’s faster.  Let’s go.”  And for the second time in a less than ten minutes he kicked his horse into a canter.

     Annie had been put down for her afternoon nap and Meg was reading a story to Beth when she heard hoof beats in the yard. 

     “You look at the pictures while Mama sees who it is,” she told the little girl.

     Meg arrived on the front porch, Nugget at her heels, in time to see Adam and the two boys dismount.  The boys ran towards her as Adam slapped the horses on their rumps and sent them into the barn. 

     “What’s going on?” she asked, as the young Adam and Jesse reached her.

      “We don’t know.  Pa came for us at school.  He said he’d tell us later.  He told us to go into the house,” was what she heard from her eldest.

     “Is there anything to eat?” asked Jesse, more concerned about the state of his stomach than the state of affairs that got him out of school early.

     “I made molasses cookies.  They’re on the kitchen table.  Have some milk too,” their mother replied absently.  She watched with surprise as her husband, a consummate horseman, put the horses in the barn and closed the door.  Something must be very wrong for him not to unsaddle and care for those animals.

     “Go into the house like your Pa said,” she added, and she began to walk toward Adam.  The boys ran past her into the house, the dog right behind them.

     “What’s the matter?” she asked, as they met mid way between the barn and the house.

     “I want you to get into the house right now,” he answered tersely, taking her elbow and turning her around.  “I’ll explain in…”

     “CARTWRIGHT! YOU SON OF A BITCH.”

     Adam wheeled around.  Tom Morrison had apparently been hiding behind the barn.  He was now face to face with Adam, standing about 10 yards away.  He had a gun belt strapped to his hip and his stance indicated her was ready for a fight.

     Meg was standing on her husband’s left side and turned at the outcry.  Adam slowly began to raise his left arm, intending to push her behind him, when Morrison drew.  He was fast, but so was Adam.  The shots seemed to ring out simultaneously.  A deadly silence followed.  It seemed to drag on interminably.

     “You…you…”.

     Morrison never finished his sentence.  He crumpled in a heap on the dusty ground, blood spurting from his mouth.  With a mixture of relief and regret Adam slowly holstered his gun.

     “Adam?”

     He looked down at his wife.  Meg’s head was bent and she was watching as a hideous red stain on her shirtwaist seemed to come alive, grow, and spread its ugly tentacles along her chest.  She looked up at him, her face wearing an expression of bewilderment.  Then he watched in horror as her eyes rolled back and her legs buckled.   He caught her before she hit the ground.

     “No!  Oh God, no!” he rasped.

     He lifted her, cradling her body to his own.  The boys and Beth had run out onto the porch after hearing the shots.  They ran towards him as he made his way to the house, their eyes darting between the body in the yard and their father.

     “Pa, what hap…”

     “Adam, get on Sport and go into town.  Get Doc Martin and bring him here.  If he’s not in town, find him!  Your mother’s been hurt.”  He turned to his younger son. “Jesse, you take Diablo and go to Grandpa’s.  Find out where he is…where your uncles are.  Just find someone and bring them back as fast as you can.”

     “But Pa…”

     “No questions.  Just move!” he roared, and the boys took off.  Still headed toward the house, Adam addressed his daughter. “Beth do you think you can take the blankets off my bed?”

     The child’s eyes were huge.  Pa said her mother was hurt and she could see blood.  She was almost paralyzed with fear.

     “Beth!”

     “Yes, Pa.  I can do it,” she answered, and ran ahead of him into her parents' bedroom.  She pulled all the covers off the neatly made bed just as her father strode into the room.  He placed Meg down gently and sent his daughter away for water and clean cloths. 

     He had a hard time with her clothes.  She was wearing a bibbed apron over her shirtwaist and skirt.  Adam didn’t both with niceties.  He pulled the apron off and ripped open her top.  There was so much blood that it was difficult to see where she had been hit.  He rolled her over and tugged at her corset ties, then pulled it off her, cursing and praying, all at the same time.  Beth returned with cold water and some dishcloths.  He sopped up and wiped away as much blood as he could while she stood silently by, terror in her eyes.

     When he could finally see the wound, Adam felt a tiny bit of relief.  She seemed to have been hit just above her left breast and under her shoulder.  The bullet would have to be removed, but he had to try and stanch the bleeding first.   He grabbed yet another cloth and pressed down firmly on the wound.  He held it in place until it was soaked.  Tossing it on the floor, he grabbed another and pressed it against her.  The second cloth soaked up blood more slowly than the first, leading Adam to believe that her blood was beginning to clot.  He threw this cloth aside and applied a third.  He was somewhat relieved to see that this last cloth was absorbing even less blood than the previous one.  Meg was frighteningly pale, but perhaps…

     He had been so intent on caring for her that he had forgotten all about Beth.  He heard a snuffling noise behind him and turned his head.  She stood there, looking so very small, tears streaming down her face.  She wiped them away with the sleeve of her dress.

     “Is Mama hurt bad?” she asked in a quivering voice.

     “Yes she is.”  There was no sense lying about the situation.  The child had eyes.

     “Is she gonna die?”

     He was careful in his answer.  He knew that Meg had lost a considerable amount of blood.  He wasn’t sure where the bullet was lodged.  He could only be honest and offer her some hope.  It was all he had himself. “I hope not, Beth.  I’m going to do everything I can to try and make her well.  Your brother went for the doctor.  And you helped by bringing the water and cloths.  We’re all doing our best to try and help Mama.”

     “I’m scared.”

     “I know.”  He reached out his free arm and, tugging on her pinafore, pulled her into his embrace.  He held her for a while till she had calmed down somewhat.  He knew his daughter well.  She wanted to be helpful and in this situation she could be of real use.  He kissed the top of her head and hugged her tightly.

     “Beth, I have to heat some water for when the doctor gets here.”

     “I can do it, Pa,” she offered.

     “No, sweetheart.  I’ll do it.  But I need you to stay here and hold this cloth tight on Mama.  Can you do that for me?”  She nodded.

     He lifted her onto the bed so she was kneeling next to Meg.  He showed her how to press down on the makeshift bandage.  Then he went to put a pot of water on to boil.  He got a bucket from the back porch and filled it part way with cold water, taking it with him back to the bedroom.

     He relieved Beth at her mother’s side and, to keep her busy, had her gather up all the bloody clothes and dishtowels and place them in the bucket.

     “Where’s Annie?” he asked, suddenly remembering the baby.

     “She’s still taking a nap, Pa.  Should I wake her up?”

     “No…no, don’t do that.  Let her sleep.  But when she does get up you’ll have to take care of her if the doctor’s not here yet.  It’s a big responsibility, but it will help me out, okay?”

     She nodded again, relieved to be doing something that her Pa found useful.

     “Sweetie, go wait on the porch and if anybody comes into the yard, tell them where I am.”

     Beth scooted out of the room and Adam kept the pressure on the bandage. 

     Where the hell’s Doc Martin? he thought.  One damned doctor for this whole territory. It’s criminal.

     Now that he had done all he could, he had time to think…time to blame himself…time to be overcome with intense guilt.  He looked at his wife’s ashen face.  She showed no signs of regaining consciousness.  He placed his ear over her chest.  Yes, her heart was beating.  Her heart…his heart…same thing.  Was it only this morning that they had made love in the hayloft?  It seemed like eons ago.  She had been playful, then passionate.  He rode off to town with a smile on his face and she went back to her chores singing.  God, he loved her!  He had taken her from a civilized existence in Boston and dumped her here in the middle of this god-forsaken wilderness.  She had never once complained.  No real shops to speak of, very little culture, saddled with four children in less than ten years, left alone for extended periods of time when he was on roundup or ranch business, and never had he heard one word of regret.  It came to him suddenly how much he had taken her for granted.  He groaned.  How had he repaid her for making him happy, bearing his children, making this house a true home?  How?  A total of three trips to San Francisco…that’s how!   Oh yes!  And he was responsible for her being shot.  Don’t want to forget that.  Where the hell was the doctor?  Where was anyone?    

     Meg moaned slightly.  Her eyelids fluttered.  Adam’s heart leapt into his mouth.

     “Meg?  Sweetheart?  Can you hear me?"

     She moaned softly, then was still once more.  He swore to himself.  Damn Morrison!  Had he been aiming for him or Meg?  Adam remembered hearing that the man whom he’d help send to prison had been more bitter about the divorce decree he had received in prison than the jail term itself.   Perhaps Meg had been his target all along.  To take her life while Adam watched would have been a just retribution in his twisted mind.  Adam sighed.  Or maybe he was just a lousy shot and missed his intended target.  It was futile to speculate.  Either way, he had extracted his revenge.  Adam didn’t know how he’d live if…  NO!  He wouldn’t think like that.  She’d recover.  She had to.  Where the hell was the doctor?

     He heard some noise in the yard.  Beth flew into the room. “Aunt Carrie’s here, Pa,” she said breathlessly.

     Well, not the doctor, but at least another adult.  Carrie raced into the bedroom.

     “Adam, what happened?”  She took one look at Meg, glanced around the room, and placed her hand over her mouth.      “She’s been shot.  It’s a long story.  You’re not going to get sick are you?” he demanded.  That’s all he needed right now.

     “No…no…of course not.  Do you want me to go for the doctor?  How badly is she hurt?  What can I do?”  The questions tumbled out one after the other and she moved closer.

     “I sent Adam for the doctor.  Where’s Jesse?”

     “He’s at Papa’s.  I was there with Ben when he rode up.  Hop Sing is keeping an eye on them and I sent a hand out to get Joe or Hoss or whoever he could find.  It shouldn’t be long.  They were fixing fence about two miles from here.”  She paused.  “Adam, who’s that man lying in the yard?”

     “Tom Morrrson.  I helped get him convicted of murder about fifteen years ago.  He came gunning for me.  We were in the yard when he showed up.  He hit Meg.  Whether he missed me or was aiming for her, I don’t know.  It’s my fault one way or the other.”

     Carrie was tempted to rebuke him for that last remark, but she knew Adam.  At this point, no matter what she said, he’d blame himself and they’d end up arguing.  There was no point in that.

     “What can I do?” she asked instead. 

     “I don’t know,” he replied miserably.  “This bullet has to come out.  If the doctor’s not here in an hour, I’ll take it out myself.  I’ve done it before,” he added under his breath.

     “I know.”  Carrie was aware of the time many years ago when Adam had removed a bullet from her own husband, whom he had shot accidentally when they had been hunting.

     “If the baby wakes up, take care of her.  Entertain Beth.”  His eyes suddenly went wild.  “God, Carrie, I sent her to wait on the porch!  Get her inside.  I don’t want her looking at Morrison’s body.”

     “I’ll get her.  Do you want anything?  Coffee?”  She hesitated.  “A drink?”

     “No, just get Beth.” 

     She turned and began to walk away.

     “Carrie!” he called to her.  She turned to face him.

     “Thanks,” was all he said. 

     It was her undoing.   Up till that point she had tried to be brave.  But her dearest friend was seriously wounded and Adam was kneeling at her bedside consumed with grief and guilt.  Tears sprang into her eyes and she ran toward him.  She knelt down, hugging him tightly, to comfort him and to comfort herself.

     “She’ll be alright,” she cried.  “I just know it Adam.  She’s too good for anything to happen to her.  She’s still needed here.  God won’t take her.  He just can’t!”  The last sentence was spoken harshly and almost in defiance of Divine will.

     In the midst of his anguish, Adam almost had to laugh.  This was the Carrie he was so familiar with…challenging God himself when her own desires might be thwarted.  And in an odd way, her statement brought him a degree of comfort.  He put his arm around her and they clung together briefly.  Then he patted her on the back and pushed her away.

     “Go take care of Beth now.  Don’t let her see you crying.  If I need you, I’ll call,” he told her quietly. 

      She nodded, rose, and left the room, wiping her eyes.

     It seemed like an eternity until anyone else showed up, but within half an hour the house was swarming with people.  Hoss and Joe had pounded into the yard and they began to make decisions for their distraught brother.  Joe rode into town to get the sheriff and to let Rebecca know what was happening.  He stopped at the school and rounded up the twins, Bitsie, and his own two children, and sent them to his father’s house to be cared for by Hop Sing.  Rebecca packed up a few items and her baby, Lottie, and drove over to Meg’s. 

     Adam was getting ready to remove the bullet himself when Paul Martin drove into the yard, with young Adam behind him on Sport.

     “Where the hell have you been?” Adam growled.  Paul ignored the remark and put down his bag.

     “I see you’ve prepared what I need.  I think you’d better let Rebecca and me handle this Adam,” was all he said, after checking for hot water, bandages, and other necessary items.

     “I’m staying.”

     Paul looked at Adam’s gaunt and haggard expression.  He put a comforting hand on his shoulder.  This was immediately shrugged off.

     “You’ve done an excellent job of stopping the bleeding.  Now let me do my job.  I can work better with a cool headed person helping me.  That’s not you at the moment.  We want this to go well, don’t we?”

     Adam closed his eyes and nodded slightly.  He went back to the bed and kissed Meg tenderly on the lips, ran his hand across her brow, and turned to Paul.

     “Don’t let anything happen to her.”

     “I’ll do my best.”

     “You’d better.”  And he left the room.

     “For the last time, Carrie, I don’t want anything to eat!” Adam said angrily.

     Carrie looked helplessly at her husband.  Joe shook his head slightly, silently advising her to back off.  The he motioned for her to go with him into the kitchen.

     “I know you mean well, darlin’, but you’d better just leave him alone for now,” he told her when they were alone.

     “You’re right.  I know it.  I guess I keep asking as much to give me something to do as anything else.”  Tears welled in her eyes again and Joe took her in his arms.

     “It’ll be alright.  You’ll see,” he tried to soothe her.  “Tell you what.  Why not cook something up anyway?  The rest of us will have to eat sometime.  It’d be nice if you had something on hand.  And there are the kids to think of.  Where’s little Adam?”

     “Hoss is with him in the barn, taking care of the horses.   The poor kid rode half way round the county before he found Paul.  And he’s sick with worry.  Hoss convinced him that the best thing to do was to help out his father by making sure the stock was taken care of.”

     “Well, at least Morrison’s body isn’t in the yard anymore.  Roy took it with him when he went back to town.  Pa’s due in on the 6 p.m. stage and Roy’ll let him know what happened.  The rest of the kids are better off not being here.   Where are the little girls?”

     “Beth is keeping an eye on Lottie and Annie.  I left them on the porch swing.  I’ll start some dinner. You be an angel and check on them, okay?”

     He hugged her tight and smiled with boyish charm.

     “Your wish is my command, madam!”  And he went in search of the little ones.

     Forty minutes after sending Adam out of the room Paul Martin emerged, wiping his hands on a towel.  Adam’s head snapped up and he sprang from his set on the sofa, his eyes questioning.  Paul smiled reassuringly.

     “Well, she lost a considerable amount of blood, but you did a good job in there.  The bullet went deep, but missed anything vital.  Fortunately for her, women have more fat in certain parts of their body than we do.  I think that helped her.  Her shoulder will be painful for a while and she’ll have a scar, but I don’t think she’ll experience any permanent loss of movement.”

     “She’ll be alright?”

     “If she doesn’t develop an infection, she should be alright,” he confirmed, watching relief flood the younger man’s face and the tension rush out of his body.  “Of course, you have to get as many fluids into her as you can and make sure she doesn’t overdo it.  Keep her in bed for at least a few days.  Then move her to a chair for a few more.  By the end of the week she can get up a move around a little.”  He paused.  “I see you’re beginning to smile, Adam.  I have news for you.  Keeping her inactive is going to be a lot harder than stopping the bleeding.  You know how she is.”  

     “Can I see her?  Is she awake?”

     “Well of course you can see her, but she’s asleep.  Why not give her some time to rest?  It’s the best thing for her right now.”

     Adam nodded and held out his hand. “Thanks, Paul.  I’m sorry if I sounded a little…well…”

     “Forget it.  You were worried.”  He chuckled.  “Keeping track of you Cartwrights doesn’t leave me a lot of time for my other patients,” the doctor answered, shaking the proffered hand.

     “You’re overworked.  We could use another doctor around here,” Adam said seriously.

     “We’re getting one.”

     “Oh?  I hadn’t heard anything.”

     “Well, it’s not common knowledge yet.  I hired an assistant…a young buck just out of medical school.  Name’s Jonathan Bryson.  He’s from Chicago.  We corresponded a bit, then met in St. Louis last fall.  Bright enough young man.  Full of all sorts of new notions and ideas.  But I think it’ll be good to have some new blood in the practice.  And it’s hard to keep up with all the advances in medicine these days.  My guess is he’ll be getting experience from me and there’ll be a thing or two that I can learn from him.  Hopefully my patients will benefit from the arrangement.”

     “I think it’s good news Paul,” Adam answered sincerely.  “How about something to eat or drink?  I think Carrie’s got something cooking in the kitchen.

     “I could use a cup of coffee,” the doctor agreed.  “I’ve got two more stops before I can get back home.”

     The men were headed for the kitchen when Rebecca appeared at the bedroom door.

     “Adam.  Meg is awake and asking for you.”

     “Go on,” Doc Martin told him with a smile. “I think I can find my own way.”

     She looked small and frail to him as she lay there.  The bedding had been changed and Rebecca had put her in a nightgown.  Her eyes were closed, but they opened when she heard him.  Oddly, she had that same bewildered look on her face that he had seen just before she passed out.  She ran a tongue over her dry lips.

     “What happened?” she asked in almost a whisper.

     He sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand in his. “What do you remember?” he asked in response.

     Her brow furrowed.  She didn’t answer immediately.

     “I remember that you came home early and you brought the boys with you.  Jesse asked for something to eat.  I sent them in the house and…and…that’s all I can recall.  What happened, Adam?  Why am I in bed?”

     He closed his eyes.  Initially he thought it might be a blessing if she couldn’t remember what happened.  But now he’d have to tell her. 

     “Do you remember a man in the yard with us?”

     She shook her head no.

     He squeezed her hand a little, then continued quietly.

     “A long time ago I helped put a man named Tom Morrison in prison.  While he was there his wife divorced him.  He was released recently and he came looking for me because he blamed me for those things.  He was looking to get even.  When I was in town this afternoon Roy warned me about him.  I got the boys and came home as fast as I could.  The kids had just gone into the house and you were standing next to me when he walked out from behind the barn.  Before I knew what was happening he drew and fired.  He hit you.”  Adam stopped for a moment and swallowed, his throat as dry as it had ever been.  He reached out and caressed her cheek.  “That’s what happened, sweetheart.  You were shot just below your shoulder.  Doc Martin removed the bullet and sewed you up.  That’s why you’re in bed.”   He bent over and placed his lips next to her ear and whispered softly, his voice breaking, “I’m so sorry, Meg.  I’m so, so sorry.  If it hadn’t been for me then you would have never…I could have lost you…I can’t…”

     She closed her eyes and reached up to stroke the back of his head. 

     “Sshh, sshh,” she whispered back.  “It’s alright.  It wasn’t your fault.  How could you have known?”  She winced slightly as she placed one hand on each side of his face and lifted his head off her chest.  They looked into each other’s eyes.  She smiled at him.  He bent his head and kissed her tenderly. 

     “Was anyone else hurt?  What about you?  What about the children?” she inquired anxiously.

     “No one else was hurt.  The kids are fine.  Jesse’s at Pa’s and the rest of them are here.  It’s a long story and one that you can hear later.  Right now you need to rest.”  He kissed her again. 

     “Adam?”

     “What, Precious?”

     “I’m thirsty.”

     “I’ll be right back.”

     He got her water and then refused to leave her side.  Carrie brought him some of the food she had made for the others.

     “Will you eat something now?” she demanded, as he sat by Meg while she slept.

     “Yeah.  Did Paul leave?”

     “A while ago.  I’m making some broth for Meg.  He said she had to have a lot of liquids.”  She handed him the plate.  “Why not let me stay here and you go eat in the kitchen?”

     “No,” he managed before he put a forkful of food in his mouth.

     She crossed her arms and frowned at him. “Adam, she’s sleeping.  There’s nothing you can do for a while.”

     “I can be here when she wakes up.”

     Carrie sighed in frustration. “Listen…Hoss went to Papa’s to pick up his kids and send Jesse home.  Joe and I will be leaving soon.  Rebecca and Lottie are spending the night and I’ll be back in the morning.  But your children are going to need you.  We’ve explained what we can, but they need to hear from you.  Let me sit here and you go out and talk to them.  I swear I’ll call you if she wakes up.”

     She thought he was going to refuse, but to her surprise he stood up and carried the plate to the door.  He stopped and looked back at her.

     “You call me the minute she opens her eyes.”

     She crossed her heart with her fingers.

     “I promise.  Now go talk to your kids.”

     “Aunt Rebecca said Mama’s better.  Is she better Pa?  Can we see her?  Can we talk to her?”

     Beth was sitting on her father’s lap.  Jesse was kneeling on the floor in front of him and Adam was perched on the arm of the chair.  Their faces were worried and expectant.

     “Right now she’s sleeping.  Aunt Carrie’s in there with her and Aunt Rebecca’s going to spend the night to help me take care of her.  When she wakes up you can all go and see her for a minute, but you have to promise to be quiet.  She needs to rest.”

     “Is she gonna be alright, Pa?  I mean after she rests for a while is she gonna be alright?” Jesse wanted to know.

     Adam reached out and ruffled the boy’s hair. “I hope so.  She was badly hurt, but the doctor did what he could to help her.  Now we have to do everything we can to help too.  She may not be just like you remembered for a while.  She’ll be weak and I’m going to need all of you to cooperate so she can get strong again.  Can I count on you?”