Ben rolled over and opened one bleary eye. He could tell from the slightly brightening light in the room that it was almost dawn. Still too dark to see the clock on his dresser, but light enough for the promise of a new day. He considered. "Time to get up and set an example for the boys about early rising. Time to get up, get ready and get down to one of Hop Sing’s delicious breakfasts." Except, the boys were all away on business trips; Hop Sing was taking a few days off and Ben Cartwright was alone, totally alone in the house.

"Happy birthday" he thought as he turned back and went to sleep. "No examples to set, no meal to appear for. Just a few more hours of snatched leisure for the birthday boy."

When he finally rose, the clock displayed 9:45 in the morning, an unheard of hour to be making an appearance. Ben washed, shaved in cold water, and got dressed. He had made arrangements the night before for the barn chores, knowing all his sons were away. So, no one had any idea of the lateness of his waking time. "No wonder Joe is so hard to get up." Ben mused. "Sleeping late could get to be a habit."

Walking down the upstairs hall, Ben noticed the half open door to Joe’s bedroom. Glancing in, he noted that his youngest son had not improved his housekeeping habits as he got older. The bed was thrown together, not made, and clothes dotted the floor. The one incongruity was the fancy green, ruffled shirt hanging on the door of the open wardrobe. Ben thought the shirt made Joe look like a riverboat gambler, but Joe loved it and could hardly wait to wear it for the next dance. Adam had given it to Joe for his last birthday, even as he made fun of Joe’s dandy ways. It hung ready, mute testimony to Joe’s intention to be home in time for the harvest dance Saturday night next.

Ben shook his head at the poorly made bed, but he realized that Joe had not had the intense training Marie had given Adam and Hoss about a properly prepared bed. Neither of those two would ever dare to leave an unmade bed, though Marie had been dead some 15 years.

Next he glanced into Hoss’s room, seeing the neatly-made, very oversized bed there. Another one of Adam’s gifts, this time a gift to a brother grown too big for a regular bed. Ben remembered Adam’s astonishment when he had returned from college, seeing how big Hoss had gotten. Before Adam left for college, Hoss had been almost as tall and broader than Adam, but when Adam had come home, he had been greeted by a "little" brother who was six inches taller and weighed 100 pounds more. The first thing Adam had done was order a new bed for his brother’s birthday, an extra long, extra wide bed that had become Hoss’s pride and joy. He claimed it was the only place he could completely stretch out and get comfortable. He certainly snored loudly enough, sleeping in that bed.

As usual, Adam’s bedroom door was closed tight. Ben wondered if that habit stemmed from his oldest son’s extremely private nature or was based on past experience with a younger brother who had felt free to wreck havoc on others’ belongings. Ben and Marie had taught Adam the hard way to respect a closed door; and Joe, too, had been made to know at a very early age not to enter a closed room without permission. So, Adam’s door was closed and Ben respected that privacy, even though he loved his glimpses into Adam’s private domain, filled with books, drawings, and pictures. He knew that bed was perfectly made and the room neat.

Downstairs, Ben went into the kitchen and stirred the banked fire in the cook stove. He threw together the makings for coffee, rummaged in the pantry until he found a crusty loaf of bread to slice and some jam to smear on it. Putting bread slices on his plate, he carried the jam and a knife past the dining table to the table in front of the settee. He put the breakfast makings down and walked back to the kitchen for a cup of hot coffee. "Sheese, I made this stuff strong enough to bend a spoon" he thought as he tasted the brew. Adding several spoons of sugar and a touch of water, he checked again and decided it was drinkable.

Knowing full well that he would have had a fit if he caught any of the boys eating in the front part of the house, he settled down on the settee with the latest copy of the newspaper and prepared to enjoy a leisurely read. With his boots on the table, he read the first couple of pages of the paper and polished off the bread and coffee. He took his utensils back to the wash tub and put them in the cold water there. Hop Sing had left things ready so that Ben would not have too much to do in the kitchen. And he would either eat at the bunkhouse, take stuff for sandwiches out of the cold box or go to town for an evening meal.

Ben turned toward his desk and stopped with surprise. There, in the center of the desk rested a box, the kind they used for supplies from the store. "What on earth," he mumbled as he walked to the desk. "How did that get here?" Then he remembered. Today was his birthday and the boys had all been a little upset not to be present for the occasion. He had insisted that ranch business came before celebrations, so they had gone their separate ways reluctantly. "Bet that box is from them." Ben guessed.

Grinning at the thoughtful sneakiness of his sons, he reached in and took out a heavy, gleaming bottle of brandy. He could tell by the label and appearance that this was a truly fine offering of the liqueur he preferred. Attached to the neck was a note which read "Happy birthday, Pa" and was signed by all three boys. "Bet Adam picked this out" Ben thought. Hoss and Joe preferred the cold beer of the saloon or a shot of whiskey to the brandy Ben drank. Only Adam appreciated a snifter of brandy and with conversation after a meal. The other two would take an occasional drink with Ben, but it was not their liquor of choice.

Rummaging again, Ben drew out a fancily wrapped package that he recognized as a box of elegant chocolate candies from that new confectionery in San Francisco, named Ghirardelli’s. There was no name on the gift, but Ben knew the identity of the giver. He lifted the lid, selected a piece and popped it into his mouth. The bite of bittersweet chocolate and orange cream caressed his tongue and Ben understood Hoss’s love of these sweets. So like his middle son to share food with his father.
Again he put his hand into the box without looking. "Rather like a grab bag exercise," he thought. This time he came up with a paper-wrapped odd-shaped gift, again no name. Opening it, he found it contained a beautiful, hand-carved pipe, with scroll-work and a curved stem. Included were several small bags of aromatic tobacco. Ben smiled tenderly at the thoughtful gift from Joe. "Only Joe truly associates me with a pipe and tobacco," he mused. When Adam and Hoss had been small, Ben had rolled and smoked an occasional tobacco weed, but it had been Marie who had introduced him to what she considered the more acceptable pipe. Cigars, she had despised, saying they stank. But she had loved his pipe, and Joe had always known the loving embrace of a father who smelled of bay rum and pipe smoke. He had several pipes Joe had given him over the years, and he treasured each one for its individual character and for the love of the giver.

He knew there was one gift left, the one from his oldest son. Adam's gifts tended to be unusual, and generally perfectly suited to the giftee and the occasion. He drew out a small package wrapped in a deep burgundy-colored cravat. The tie was luscious silk and most unsuitable for a man of his age. Ben loved it. The box was made of polished wood, meant for a dresser knick-knack. Opening it, Ben saw a tiny perfume vial, empty now but still emitting a scent of roses. He recognized instantly the donor of the bottle. He had, after all, given it to her. Below the bottle rested a rose-colored note with the words "Come see me" in a graceful, feminine handwriting. The address was a luxury suite at the Palace Hotel in Virginia City, finest in the town.

Ben's mouth dropped open. "How did ...? Where did Adam...?

He knew that only Adam could have met Honor at her exclusive San Francisco "club"; only Adam would have the nerve to invite her to Virginia City for a tryst with Ben on his birthday. Ben shook his head at his oldest son's nerve, ingenuity, and style. Perhaps he needed to check into those San Francisco business trips Adam made; it seemed Adam was doing more than ranch business there.

He fingered his gifts for a minute. He could wear the silk scarf; he could share the chocolates and brandy following dinner, and Honor had always liked the scent of his pipe. "Mid afternoon," he decided. Time for a bit of work on the ranch, then home to pack a few things. He would go to the barber, then to the bathhouse in town for a good hot soak. He could change at the bathhouse, then answer the summons to visit Honor. He would escort her to the Cattlemen's Club for dinner; then they would return to the suite for brandy and good conversation. There would be time to ask how Honor had met Adam. Or, maybe, there would be more important things to discuss . . . or do!

"Happy birthday, Ben!" he exulted as he left the empty house to do a few chores before HIS party.