Care Package
by
Helen Adams  

Adam sighed heavily, closing the ponderous volume of French poetry he’d been studying with a slam.  He was not in much of a mood for poetry today or literature of any kind.  In fact the dark book-lined shelves of the large collegiate library seemed to be almost closing in on him as Adam sat at his empty table with the book.  He stared for several long minutes at the fancy gold etched binding on the volume’s spine. He should open the cover back up and resume preparing for the test Professor Moreau would be giving his literature students the following morning, he knew, but Adam just could not force himself to do it.  At this moment, he could think of nothing he hated more in the world than poetry.  Never mind that the rhymes, verses and gently flowing words had always filled his heart with a thrill of wonder before.  Tonight reading felt more like drudgery to him than it ever had to his little brother Hoss.

A wistful smile drifted across Adam’s lips as he thought about Hoss.  He glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner, noting the lateness of the hour. It must be nearly suppertime back home.  Hoss would probably just be finishing bedding down the stock about now, or maybe heading for the house to spend some time playing with Little Joe before Hop Sing came to announce the evening meal.  Joe was seven years old and always insisted on a game of tag or hide and seek before dinner.  Their father happily allowed this as it served to remove some of the boy’s pent up energy and put him in a good mood for supper.  Adam and Hoss had always teamed up against their small brother in an attempt to wear him out and all three had loved it.  “Wonder how Hoss handles him on his own?” Adam whispered softly.  “Do they miss me when they play?”

More memories tumbled over themselves in a rush as Adam allowed his mind to drift hundreds of miles to the west reliving both extraordinary and mundane times with his family.  Even the dullest, most ordinary event suddenly seemed laden with special beauty.  In his mind’s eye, Adam could see Hoss’ big sunny grin beaming with delight over each new animal baby born on the Ponderosa. He could smell his father’s fragrant after dinner pipe tobacco, mixing pleasantly with his Bay Rum cologne.  He could almost taste the crispy fried pork chops Hop Sing would undoubtedly be fixing tonight, it being Thursday.  He could hear the wonderfully funny sound of his baby brother’s bubbling laughter as he talked a mile a minute about the events of his day.  The palpable warmth and love of the Ponderosa surrounded Adam as he closed his eyes and imagined for a moment that he was really there with his family.  He was horrified when a burning sensation behind his eyes signaled the beginning of tears.  Adam quickly stood and gathered his books, exiting the library and breaking into a loping run the moment he was free of the building.  It was already dark out and his destination was unclear at first, but soon a familiar grove of pine trees at the far end of the college campus came into view and he hurried toward it.  He had spent many hours in the grove in the two months since his arrival, reading, studying or sometimes just thinking.  The trees were decidedly puny compared to the towering pines back in Nevada but they gave him a sense of home that was very pleasant.  Tonight however, as Adam threw his body to the ground between two of the larger trunks, panting for breath, the trees only seemed to strengthen the terrible ache that filled his heart.

“I won’t cry,” Adam told himself sternly.  He snuffled and dashed at his eyes with the back of his right hand, pulling himself up with a deep breath.  He had said he would not cry and therefore he would not.  After all, he was the stalwart, dependable, emotionally sturdy one of Ben Cartwright's three sons. He would not give in to something as childish as a fit of tears. “This is where I want to be,” he whispered determinedly, trying to ignore the quaver in his voice.  “I begged Pa to let me come here and now I’m here and I’m happy about it.  I’m not going to cry like some little kid who’s never been away from home before!”

Despite his resolve, the tears were beginning to fall in great fat drops and the more Adam tried to convince himself that he was a grown up, nearly nineteen, and that men did not indulge in tears over a little homesickness, the faster they fell.  Finally, he gave up the fight and buried his head in his arms.  It felt good to let his feelings out, and for once Adam decided to drop his natural reserve and just wallow in a good bout of misery.  He missed his home and family terribly; had missed them since the day he left the border of the Ponderosa.  Not that Boston was not every bit as wonderful as he had always supposed it would be.  In some ways it was even better, and Adam had thrown himself into life here with his customary determination, all the while denying the longing for home that had nagged at his heart persistently.  He had written to the family with his new address the day after he had obtained it but so far nobody had found the time to write to him or send him anything other than the money his Pa had wired to him. 

With a heavy sigh, Adam wiped his face with his sleeve and rested his cheek on his upraised knee, his expression very sad.  Maybe they didn’t really miss him very much back home. There was lots of work to keep everyone busy and his brothers had school as well.  Hoss had often accused his older brother of being too quiet, always with his nose buried in a book when work was through. His absence was probably something they barely noticed at all.  Small children had short memories, so to Little Joe it probably already seemed far longer than three months since Adam had gone away and no doubt the memory of his oldest brother was fading rapidly.  As for Pa, he was likely just glad not to have his son badgering him about going away to college anymore.  Besides, he had Joe and Hoss to keep him busy.  No, undoubtedly it had not occurred to anybody back home to write. More tears slid down, dripping off the boy’s nose as he envisioned all the fun his younger siblings were no doubt having now that big brother was no longer there to keep them in line. 

After a few more minutes spent in self-pity, Adam’s usual calm disposition began to reassert itself and a small smile played over his lips.  It often took a good while for mail to travel from city to city, and it wasn’t as if the Ponderosa was just a short ride from Boston. Besides, it really was a very busy time on the ranch right now, with winter fast approaching.  It could be that nobody had managed to find the time to make the long trip necessary to post a letter. He was being ridiculous and he knew it.  His love for his family was not greater than their love for him and if he was missing them this severely, then surely they must miss him too, at least a little.  “Maybe I shouldn’t wait for them to make the first move. I’ll just write the letter myself and tell them all about life here and how much I’m learning and how much I miss them.  Maybe then they’ll write me back,” he mused.  With sudden resolve, Adam scrubbed away the last of his tears and stood, dusted himself off, and headed for his boarding house to begin immediately.

“Cartwright!  Hey, Cartwright!  Wait up, will you?”  The voice behind him calling his name suddenly registered through the cloud of preoccupation in Adam’s mind and he turned to see who it was.  Paul Dwyer, Adam’s roommate for the term came panting up to him.  “Why didn’t you stop when I called, Adam?  I saw you heading back home and thought I’d join you, but if you’re gonna run all the way there forget it!”

“I wasn’t running,” Adam said mildly.  “I just didn’t hear you.  Thinking too hard, I guess.”

“Ah,” Paul said sagely, falling into step beside him.  “Old man Moreau’s test tomorrow or the glances of the lovely Miss Cosgrove?”

Adam laughed, coloring a little at the mention of Penelope Cosgrove. She was the sister of one of Adam’s other two fellow student boarders at O’Leary’s Boarding House.  At least twice a week she came by, ostensibly to see her little brother Peter, but really to flirt with Peter’s handsome new freshman housemate.  She was at least three years older than he and a genuine Boston blueblood to boot, and Adam did not quite know what to make of her but he could not deny that he enjoyed the attention.  “Neither one this time.  I want to write a letter home tonight and I was trying to decide what to put in it.”

Paul suddenly snapped his fingers.  “That’s what I came to tell you.  You’ve got a big parcel waiting for you back at the room.  Jerry stopped by the Post Office today and picked up our mail while he was getting his own.”  Jerry was Gerald Brooks, their third housemate.  “Jerry gave it to me to give to you, but I wasn’t sure where you were so I just left it on your bed.  I think it’s from your family, the postmark says Nevada Territory.  Looks big enough to contain food.  Think you might be willing to share with your poor starving roommate if there is?”

Their stride quickened as Adam became even more eager to reach the boarding house.  How ironic that while he had been bemoaning his family’s lack of correspondence there had been something waiting for him back at his room!  He grinned at his friend’s question.  Paul weighed all of 100 pounds soaking wet but he ate enough to put Hoss to shame.  “Well, if the package came all the way from Nevada you probably wouldn’t want to eat what’s inside anyway.  Chances are any food inside won’t be too fresh after several weeks en route.”

Paul looked crestfallen for a moment, then brightened.  “I got a package too.  My mother sent me a tin of cake and it only had to travel from Philadelphia so it’s still good.  Let’s have some while you see what you got!”  Adam nodded and broke into a run, laughing at the curse his friend released as he struggled to keep up. 

By the time they arrived at their destination, both young men were laughing and out of breath. They happily ignored the glare their landlady Mrs. O’Leary shot them as they clambered past her parlor and up the stairs to their room.  The very prospect of mail from home had been enough to fully restore Adam’s good cheer and he practically dove onto his bed to grab the waiting package.  It was larger than he had expected and clearly showed the wear of its long journey.  The brown paper packaging was wrinkled and had the appearance of having been through at least one application of mud and rain. The strings tying it together were knotted and a little frayed here and there and the package itself was bulky and lumpy, but it did indeed hold a Nevada postmark and his name and address clearly scrawled in his Pa’s unmistakable bold handwriting. Adam thought he had never seen a more beautiful sight.

“Well, are you just gonna sit there staring at it all night or are you planning to open it up?” chided Paul, passing his friend a large fruity wedge of cake from his own package.  Adam grinned, took a huge bite, and tore into the wrappings, eager to find out what was contained inside.

There were three layers of the brown paper removed before Adam found anything else but he felt it worth the extra effort to open when the package spilled out not one, but four letters. There was also a package of hard candy, another well-wrapped one of beef jerky, a small hand carved wooden whistle, a tightly sealed tin, three new books, and a worn stuffed animal.  Adam’s grin softened into a fond smile at the sight of the toy.  It was Little Joe’s favorite, a brown bear in a tiny leather vest and string tie.  Joe’s mother had made the bear during her confinement and his brothers had fashioned the bear’s outfit as a Christmas present when Joe was three.  He had named it Bo and had slept with it every night of his life, often dragging it around with him during the day as well. Adam held the bear up for Paul to see.  “I guess my little brother must have stuck this in by accident.  He never goes anywhere without Bo, he even hides him in his saddle-bag when he goes to school.”

Paul smiled.  “I know how that goes.  My little sister used to have a doll she felt the same way about.  You’d better send it back quick.  The kid must be heartbroken without it.”

A flicker of worry creased Adam’s brow.  “I hope not but you’re probably right. I’ll ship it back when I send my letter.”

“Good idea,” agreed Paul. “In the meantime, what’s in that tin?”  He moved over and sat on Adam’s bed with as much of a bounce as his skinny frame could create and rattled the tin carefully.  “Sounds like cookies.  Maybe sugar…no, oatmeal…yes, definitely oatmeal cookies.”

Adam rolled his eyes and grabbed the tin.  Pulling his pocket knife out of the bedside table drawer, he pried open the tin.  It took several minutes to get the tight lid off and when it finally gave with a pop and they were able to look inside, he was astonished to find at least two dozen oatmeal cookies wrapped in a folded pouch of waxed paper.  He gingerly pulled one out, expecting it to crumble to dust in his hand but the cookie felt fairly soft so he took a nibble then with a shocked glance at Paul, popped the entire thing into his mouth and ate it.  It was wonderful!  “I don’t know how he did it, but Hop Sing somehow managed to seal the tin so these are still fresh.”

Paul, helped himself to a cookie.  “Umm, this is great!  If your cook’s baking is always this good I don’t know how you convinced yourself to ever leave home.” 

The eye rolling, lip smacking, tummy-patting gestures of his friend soon had Adam laughing hard.  He tossed another cookie at the other boy, who caught it deftly and dispatched it with all due haste.  “I have simply got to get you out to the Ponderosa some day,” he said when he could catch his breath.  “You and Hoss would hit it off in no time and you’d win Hop Sing’s heart forever.  I’m sure of it.”

Paul grinned.  “I’ll take you up on that offer one of these days, Adam.  I’m curious to meet these people you’ve spent so much time talking about.  Think your dad and baby brother would like me?”

“I’m sure Pa would welcome anyone I consider a good friend.  He thinks I’m too suspicious of people and need more friends so you’d probably find yourself treated like another son,” Adam told him, knowing that despite his teasing tone he was telling only the truth.  “And all you’d have to do to win Little Joe over is take interest in our horses and not treat him like a baby.  Joe’s only seven but he thinks he’s almost a grown up. He keeps telling Pa he’s going to run the Ponderosa horse operations pretty soon now, as soon as Pa lets him learn how to ride a bucking bronc.  Little Joe can’t wait but I see Pa’s hair getting more gray every day he thinks about it.”  He laughed and his friend laughed too.

“Sounds like a fun bunch.  I’ll definitely have to find my way out there some time.”  Paul moved on to the other item of interest in the package.  He held up the jerky, which had just been unwrapped. “Now I assume this is also something edible, but for the life of me I can’t decide what it is!”

Adam was incredulous.  “You’ve never seen beef jerky before?”

Paul’s eyes widened.  “Oh, is that what this is?  I’ve heard of it whenever I’ve read stories about the big, bad untamed west.  Never seen any though.”

Even though he knew the other young man was teasing, Adam could not help bristling a bit at his mocking tone.  He often felt extremely self conscious about his western upbringing in the midst of all the fine old society of the east and he hated the way everyone here seemed to view anything west of the Mississippi River as savage and uncouth.  “It’s just beef strips that have been cured and dried so they won’t spoil.  You carry them whenever you’re out on the trail someplace and you don’t have any regular cooking handy,” he explained curtly.  “You’re welcome to try some but I’d like to read my letters privately now, if you don’t mind.”

Paul looked surprised at Adam’s tone but decided not to push him.  He grabbed a piece of the jerky with a nod of thanks and crossed back to his own side of the room to finish his letters.  Adam watched out of the corner of his eye as his friend examined the food from all sides, then began to chew it.  He did seem to be enjoying it and Adam regretted his harshness.  Paul seemed to feel him watching, for he looked up and brandished the jerky with a nod and a wink before sticking it back in his mouth with a grin.  Adam smiled too and picked up the first of his letters.  It was only one page and he was surprised to see from the large tipsily printed letters that it was from Little Joe.  He and his father had been teaching Joe how to read and write since he was four years old.  Always precocious, the child had displayed a natural aptitude for it, but as far as Adam knew this had to be Joe’s first attempt at letter writing.  He felt strangely proud to be the recipient.

Dear Adam,

I hope you like scool.  I don’t.  Some of the kids pick on me cuz they no I will get in truble if Pa catches me in a fite.  Hoss had a cold and now I got it and so I got to stay home today. I liked that cept Pa made me stay in bed and drink icky stuff for my coff.  Sense I hafta stay in bed I am riting this letter to you by myself so you can see how good I do it.  Tell me abowt Boston.  Pa says you can see the oshun there and ships and stuff.  Will you send me something from there?  It is cold today.  Is Boston cold?  Do you get snow?  Pa thinks we will get snow soon!  I wish you was here to help me make a snowman.  I miss you a lot.  I cryed when you went away, but don’t tell cuz Pa says I am a brave boy and I don’t want him to find out.  Hoss misses you to but I don’t no if he cryed.  It aint as fun to do stuff without you. I asked Pa if I cud send you a present and Pa says you wood like to get new books so me and Hoss both choosed one.  Mine is so you don’t forget home.  I am sending Bo in case you are scared.  I was scared away from home when Pa took me with him to sackermento last year. I forgot him at home when we was in san fransisko and Hoss read me a scary story and I had bad dreams but Hoss stayed with me til they went away so I will be ok without Bo wile he is with you.  I have been good like you told me and me and Hoss hope you will be back soon.  Here is a hug for you – O. 

Love Joe

p.s.  I got a new horse!  Hoss did to. 

Adam laughed as he finished the first letter. He was sure Joe would have shown it to Pa, despite his wish that Pa not find out he had cried for his brother, and Pa certainly could have repaired the many spelling errors, but Adam was glad he had not.  The many smudgy spots on the paper gave testimony to Little Joe having erased and rewritten several words on his own, most notably, his version of Sacramento, which was nearly rubbed out from multiple erasures. It was so typical of his baby brother and he felt very close to the boy as he read it over again.  This was one letter Adam knew he would keep and treasure always. “Must be a good one,” observed Paul with a smile.  Adam grinned and handed him Joe’s letter.  Paul chuckled a couple of times as he read then handed the paper back.  “Pretty good for as young as he is.  Guess maybe you’d better keep that bear for a while, huh?  You’d hurt his feelings if you sent it back right away.”

“I suppose so.”  Adam picked up Bo and placed him on the night table.  He then shuffled through the three books on his bed, which up until now he had assumed were all sent by his father.  One, the thickest volume, was a collection of Shakespeare’s plays.  Adam knew this book had come from his father.  It matched an older, more worn volume of the same that sat on Ben Cartwright’s own bookshelf and which Adam had read many times.  The second was “The Sketch Book” by Washington Irving.  Undoubtedly this was from Hoss.  The two of them shared a love of adventure stories stemming from the many nights their father had put them to sleep with tales of his days at sea and on the plains. Adam flipped open the cover and scanned the titles of the short stories contained within, tempted to read one right now, but he resisted the urge.  It could wait until he finished reading his mail.  Picking up the third book, Adam immediately understood what his smallest brother had meant about not forgetting home.  It was a picture book full of paintings of the west.  Horses, cattle, cowboys, Indians and mountain and desert scenery jumped out from the pages in stunning watercolors, causing Adam’s heart to pound in his chest with a fierce longing to see it all for himself once again.  He checked the cover.  This was no cheap dime-store picture book.  Pa must have allowed Joe to select it in one of the finer stores in San Francisco and it could not have come cheap.  But he loved it, as Pa and Joe must have known that he would.  “Thanks, little brother,” he whispered, fingers caressing a particularly vivid image of the Sierra Nevada Mountains at sunset.  He flicked a self-conscious glance toward Paul, but the other boy was reading a letter of his own.  That reminded Adam that he still had three to go.

The second letter was a mere note, written in Hop Sing’s peculiar spidery script, assuring him that the family was safe and being well looked after.  He smiled as the cook admonished him to eat regularly and be sure and write if he was not being adequately fed.  It was amusing to imagine what kind of future parcels he might receive if he so much as hinted anything of the kind, and Adam was half tempted to claim starvation, just to see what might arrive.

Letter three was from Pa, but Adam set it aside for the moment, wanting to read his father’s words last. Instead he opened the last paper, grinning in anticipation of finding out what Hoss had to say.  The writing in this letter was far different than Little Joe’s.  Much neater of course, but in a very deliberate way that suggested to Adam that his younger brother had probably had Pa correct one draft then copied it out.  Hoss had always been a little sensitive about his lack of bookish skills compared with those of his older brother.  The show of care warmed Adam’s heart and he resolved to mention how well written it was when he answered his family.

Dear Adam,

How have you been?  I hope Boston is nice and full of new things to learn like you hoped.  I can’t imagine anything in a big city that could compare to the Ponderosa.  I would like to see Boston though, just to see for myself what your new life is really like.  Little Joe thinks that everybody in Boston wears short pants and powdered wigs like they did a hundred years ago because that’s what the people looked like in a book that Pa showed us when we were shopping for your present in San Francisco.  Pa tried to explain that it was not like that anymore, but Little Joe was too tickled by the idea of you being rigged up that way.  He giggled like a mad thing when he first saw that picture and since then he’s painted such a picture of you that I almost think of you that way too and I can’t help but laugh. I hope you like the book I picked out.  It’s real good; I read it before Pa packed it up so we could talk about it.  The stories are lots of fun.  I read the one about the headless horseman to Little Joe because I thought he’d like it, seeing as how he likes adventure stories, but it gave him nightmares.  Pa says I should have known better than to read scary stories to a seven year old but he did not punish me cause I already feel awful about scaring Joe.

Two of the mares dropped foals last month, and the weather has been so cold lately that Pa let me put them all up in the barn until the foals are old enough to stand a better chance outdoors.  They are the cutest little critters you ever saw.  One is black all over with a white blaze and promises to be a right big fella some day and the other is a sweet little dappled gray filly.  Pa is letting Joe and me help look after them and we named them.  I think the black will make a good saddle horse one day. He is plump and loves to eat so I decided to name him Chubby.  When he grows big enough to ride, Pa says I can have him for my very own!  Little Joe has fallen in love with the dapple and hopes Pa will let him have her to ride when she’s grown some, though he still has his heart set on someday getting a pinto.  He calls her Freckles because of the little spots all over her coat and he goes out every day and talks to her like she was a real person and brings her sugar and carrots and apple slices whenever he can coax Hop Sing to give him some.

Joe got into trouble at school last week for fighting.  I was at home with a cold or I wouldn’t have let it happen. The three Thomas brothers were making fun and calling names against both me and him, then Billy Thomas shoved Joe and said he was no good without me to fight his battles for him.  Well, Joe pitched into Billy and bloodied his nose for him and managed to get in a couple of licks on Danny and Paul too before the teacher stopped it.  Joe got in trouble cause he was the one doing the punching. Miss Jones made him stand in the corner all afternoon and sent a note home to Pa.  Joe got a lecture from Pa for fighting but it wasn’t a bad one, cause I told Pa how the Thomas boys are always picking on poor Little Joe and saying mean stuff to him.  He told Pa they were trying to make him cry. They did that once before and then jeered at him about being a baby.  I don’t know what to do to make them stop short of thrashing them but that only seems to make them more determined to pick on him when I’m not there.  Do you have any ideas?  Little Joe was happy yesterday because he caught my cold and got to stay home from school.  He’s better today and I’m all over being sick too.  The weather has gone colder and windy since last night so Pa is making Joe stay inside.  He tried to make him stay in bed but you know how Joe is. They made a deal instead and Joe agreed to stay inside close to the fireplace and cover up while he plays quiet games with his toy soldiers and horses in return for Pa spending the day with him, reading to him or whatever, instead of doing the books.  I don’t think Pa minded his half of the deal.  When I came home, I joined them for hot cocoa and doughnuts and we all played with Joe’s train set until suppertime.  Joe wished you were here to play too and I feel the same way.  It seems like forever since you been gone.

I can’t think of anything else to write.  Hope you like the candy and jerky I am putting in and also the whistle that Joe and I made for you.  I’m making you something else for Christmas.  Maybe you’ll be able to come home and see it, huh?  That would be great.  Write back soon.

Love, Hoss


Adam smiled at his brother’s broad hint to come home for the holidays.  He doubted he would be able to make it all that way since there would only be a two week school closure at Christmas time, but the secure knowledge that both his brothers missed him and wanted him home made the cold homesick corners of his heart feel warm again.  It was also good to know that Hoss still felt he could rely on his older brother for advice.  He would have to think about what to tell them about the Thomas brothers.  Adam had experienced his own troubles with that family in past years, when Johnny and Jesse Thomas, who were twins his own age, had seemed determined to make harassing him their life’s work.  From Hoss’ letter, it seemed that straw blonde hair and freckles were not the only things that ran in that family.

A glance at his roommate revealed that Paul had filched the book of western scenery over to his own bed along with a couple more strips of Adam’s beef jerky and was blissfully absorbed in taking both in as fast as possible.  A grin twisted one side of Adam’s mouth up as he looked at him.  He had gotten entirely used to his friend’s stealthy purloining of objects, knowing that Paul never took anything with the thought of thievery and he always returned a borrowed possession.  He tended to view food as share and share alike, which suited his roommate just fine.  Adam moved on to Pa’s letter.

   
My Dear Son,

It has been a mere four weeks since you left home, but already it feels much longer.  The house and barn are the same as they have always been and yet everywhere I go, I find myself expecting to see you riding, reading, drawing plans or working and playing with your brothers.  Your spirit still seems to linger here, though you are so far away.  We have adjusted to your absence as best we can, but I see Hoss and Little Joe pausing often in whatever they happen to be doing, sometimes only for a moment, as though they too are surprised not to see you there with them. Joseph could hardly manage to look at your empty chair without breaking into tears at first. Fortunately he has finally gotten used to there being only three of us at the table and has calmed, though he does seem to consider it his duty to keep up a steady stream of chatter at every meal to make up for the loss.
   
I imagine that by this time you will be well settled into your new life in Boston, where I hope you will find that everything meets your high expectations.  It is a beautiful old city and I remember well the sights and sounds and strangely historic atmosphere that permeates life there.  That you will find plenty of wonders to excite your senses and stir your ever-vivid imagination, I have no doubt.  The aroma of the sea, which flavors ever breath and corner of Boston will easily get into your blood if you let it.  Yours is the blood of generations of sea-going folk, so you will likely know exactly what I am referring to.  Just don’t let yourself get carried away by the call of the sea before you’ve had a chance to finish what you’re starting out to do, if you can help it.  Your Grandfather Stoddard has offered to bet me a considerable sum that you will wind up boarding a ship for exotic ports of call before year's end and while I will refrain from betting, I have assured him that your heart is in the land.  I do not fear losing you to the sea…

Adam paused a moment in his reading, feeling a guilty flush heating his neck as he recalled his awe at the first sight of the magnificent ships filling Boston Harbor and the temptation to shuck his luggage and sail away on one that had momentarily filled his imagination.  His practical side had taken over after a few seconds, but that thrill of adventure had been real and he suspected it might be best not to mention it to Pa in his answering missive.  The next sentence in Ben’s letter brought a grin to Adam’s face.

…I am, however, a bit concerned about your brothers.  Hoss let one of the other schoolboys gull him into purchasing a treasure map, which supposedly leads to buried pirate gold somewhere nearby.  What he thinks pirates would be doing burying their treasure next to the Sierras I cannot imagine, but Hoss is full of grand plans for what he will do with the gold once he finds it.  Joe is less interested in finding gold than in the game of playing pirates, using Hoss’ map and a wooden cutlass the two of them fashioned from bits of wood left over when I had Pete and Charlie rebuild the bunkhouse roof after that section collapsed last month.  Joe truly seems undecided about whether he wishes to be a cowboy or a pirate when he grows up. He seems to divide his time equally between caring for the new colts he and Hoss just started raising and asking me questions about sails, rigging and exactly how long a plank has to be before you can make a man walk off the end of it!  The speculative look in his eye as he asked me that last question, all the while eyeing Hoss and the boards of the corral fence was truly alarming. It sent visions of broken bones and cracked heads dancing through my mind with such rapidity that I am now doing my best to lure him away from the temptations of piracy.
   
As I know they have informed you in their own letters, both of your brothers are well.  They have been a bit under the weather this past week, but fortunately it was nothing serious.  A couple of days in bed with warm flannels and plenty of Hop Sing’s herb tea and today they both seem right as rain.  Of course, your youngest brother invented at least one hundred excuses to be popping out of bed the moment my back was turned and it is something of a relief not to be riding herd on him today, trying to make sure he stays there.  On one occasion, two nights ago, I even caught Joseph in the upstairs hallway riding Hoss’ back as he obligingly played pony for our little nightshirted cowboy.  I must confess difficulty in maintaining a properly stern countenance when I discovered them.  Joe just grinned at me, totally unconcerned, while Hoss looked guilty enough for both of them. What did I finally do to them, you ask?  Well, my intention was to send them both back to bed, and though I was fully expecting the vehement protest I got, each of your brothers claiming he was no longer feeling sick, I actually let them wheedle me out of the decision.  There was Joseph, smiling his most winsome smile at me, which I must tell you has gained even more power now that he’s lost his front baby teeth!  Hoss must have sensed me weakening, for he followed up with his best pleading puppy-dog expression.  I declare, Adam, that I must be going soft in my middle years, for within minutes the three of us were downstairs, firmly ensconced on the sofa with Hoss and Joe tucked into blankets on either side of me, hot cocoa and cookies in hand, while I read aloud to them until they started to fall asleep.  The only thing missing was you.  Just before he nodded off, Joe told me he wished you were there too and I felt the same. 

Day in and day out, I find myself missing your wit and counsel as I go about settling the books and dealing with the thousand little jobs that crop up.  All of those practical and philosophical discussions we’ve shared over the chessboard of an evening ever since your boyhood come back to me now.  They help me to answer the questions in my own heart as well as the often more difficult ones posed by your brothers.  With luck, those memories will serve you as well as you strive to find your own answers and your own path through life.

Enjoy the gifts we are all sending and please let me know if there is anything that you need.  I have tried to talk Little Joe out of including his toy bear, as I fear he will be unable to sleep without it, but he insists that you need it more.  In order to avoid an incident, I have elected to humor him and will let you know how he fares next time.

Keep warm, study hard and always remember who you are and that your family loves and prays for you daily.  Godspeed, my son.

Love,
Pa


Adam snuffled softly as he finished reading.  Homesickness had returned with the pages full of familiar scenes from the Ponderosa, but this time the feeling was different and much easier to bear.  It was all still back there, waiting for him when he was ready.  The love, the joy, the problems and the sorrows; all waiting with open arms.  He felt silly now for his lack of faith in his family’s love, and resolved to answer all of the letters at the earliest possible moment.  For now, though, it was getting late and there were tests tomorrow that would not go away just because he was not in the mood to deal with them.

“I’ve finished my mail, so I think I’ll hit the hay, Paul,” he informed his roommate, gathering all of his new possessions off of the bed and placing them carefully on his bureau and night table to be sorted in the morning. 

“Sounds good to me,” Paul agreed with a yawn, handing back Adam’s new books, all three of which had managed to migrate over his side of the room in the few minutes it had taken Adam to read his last letter.  Paul stood and stretched, groaning loudly and theatrically.  Adam chucked a pillow at him and they both laughed and began to get ready for bed. 

A few minutes later, the light was out and Adam was settled under the covers, thinking over the words of his father and brothers and wondering what they were doing at that moment.  Hoss and Joe would undoubtedly be asleep by now, Hoss snoring like a swarm of bees and Little Joe sprawled across the middle of his mattress, covers twisted every which way.  Pa would probably be going through the house one last time, checking to make sure everything was secured for the night before retiring for a peaceful hour’s reading.  Life began early each morning on a ranch and by necessity, bedtimes had to come early as well.  A last strong surge of homesickness washed over Adam at the clear picture of the Ponderosa that filled his mind and he listened carefully to see if his roommate was asleep yet.  Paul usually slept fast and hard and was the last to wake in the morning. Tonight looked to be no exception.  Safe in the knowledge that he would not be discovered, Adam’s hand drifted up to the table beside his head, stealthily pulling a certain old, stuffed bear, much worn with years of absorbing loving hugs and frightened tears, down beside him.  Hugging the little piece of home to his chest beneath the quilt, Adam Cartwright drifted off toward pleasant dreams with a soft smile upon his face.

The End

 
 

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