agnieszka001

"They’ve never quarrelled like that," Hoss sighed worriedly. "I’d rather expect you to move out than Adam." Joe shifted uneasily. "Pa doesn’t even talk about him. It’s real bad, I tell you. And the ... spanking..."

"Why do I have to do all the work?", Adam raised his voice again. "Who runs this ranch anyway?"

"Don’t you talk to me like that!", Ben thundered, catching firmly his son’s arm.

Hoss and Joe heard Adam answer sharply back, "Don’t you think there are too many do’s and don’ts in this house?" They slipped shyly in – just in time to see Ben sit down and unexpectedly pull Adam over his lap, and then a hearty slap... Adam gasped and caught his breath in surprise, astonishment, pain... shame; his eyes were fixed on the two involuntary witnesses of his very shame.

After a moment of shocked numbness he struggled quickly to a standing position, straightened up, trying desperately to regain some dignity, and turned an almost mad look at his father.

Ben stood up and said coldly, "I expect an apology now." Adam blushed with approaching fury. "In this house you shall obey me," Ben frowned. "If you don’t apologise now..." Here, Adam finally let his breath out, turned to the door, catching his hat and jacket, and was gone...

Unexpectedly for them, Ben emerged from the house and frowned at his idle sons, "Would you kindly do your chores in the stable?" They moved quickly to work, trying not to upset their father anymore; they had already found their lives much more difficult since Adam stopped doing most of the work at the ranch.
***
The children giggled quietly, whispering about the subject. "Now, I’d advise you to begin writing," Adam ordered the books on his desk. "You’ll give the essays to your mothers, and the best ones will be read out in front of all your mothers on the Mother’s Day." A louder murmur was to be heard for a moment, and then the children bent over the white pages.
"I won’t write it , Mr Cartwright."

Adam looked up at Timothy Cooper in astonishment. The pupils quietened at once and also looked at the boy, so insolent to the teacher. Adam stood up heavily – he felt tired – and approached the boy. "Why?", he asked calmly. "I don’t have a mother," Timothy asked in a strained voice. "I never knew her. What can I write? Who can I give it to?"
Adam looked at him thoughtfully for a while, then turned to the other children, who were still staring at them. "I don’t think you want to stay after lessons to finish the essays, do you?", he asked gently. They quickly returned to their work. Timothy was sitting at the end of the class; Adam could take advantage of the situation, having all the children in view. He sat down on a spare chair, made the boy also sit, bent over to him and began whispering to his ear.

"I didn’t know about your mother, Tim; anyway, this does not exempt you from writing the essay, I am sorry. But in this situation I believe a certain change in subject would be excusable. What I mean is that you can write either about your father- he takes care of you, doesn’t he?" Information shyly confirmed, he continued, "– your father as a parent. In fact, he had to take over the part of your mother when she was gone. Do you understand what I mean?" A nod. "Good. Or, as another option, you can write how would you like your mother to be, for example when your father remarries. Or, as I think of it now," he moved closer to the boy’s ear, whispering more quietly, "you can imagine how she was, or how she would be if she were here, with you. I am sure she watches you from up there," he pointed subtly in the direction above their heads, "and that she will help you. Mothers rarely leave their children completely without help or protection." He looked at the boy’s sad face. "Will you write it, Tim? Will you at least try?" The boy hesitated for a moment. "Who will... correct it?", he whispered shyly. "Me and Miss Sanders,"

Adam gently hugged the boy’s shoulders. "Don’t you worry, I’ll explain everything to her."

Miss Sanders was the teacher proper; Adam had been asked to stand in for her as she fell ill. It gave him a good reason to move out after the extraordinarily violent quarrel with his father. Now, he couldn’t help thinking about home, a home long ago and far away.

"If you want to, you may stay a while after the lessons to have time to finish writing," he whispered softly to the boy, "as you begin later than the rest." He moved to the desk, feeling awfully tired, his throat sore, his back aching, his head dizzy, eyes hurting and sleepy. He hardly admitted even to himself how much sorry he was for the quarrel with Pa. And what about? A trifle. He was astonished at his own reactions. Was it the late outcome of the hard-working spring? In May?! – Impossible. Just... hadn’t it been... He looked at the writing children; Tim was writing, too. The boy raised his eyes for a moment; Adam smiled to him instinctively, observing him go back to his work.

***

"You know that Billy Patterson used nicer words, and his essay is much more mature," Ben heard Miss Sanders’ comment in the hotel lobby. Looking towards her, he noticed Adam’s doubtful expression. "Tim works very hard on his vocabulary," was his son’s answer "It IS noticeable. As to maturity, I would strongly argue for Tim as well."
She sighed. "I thought I would know better as a woman," she said with a smile. "Haven’t you noticed children do not write like that?", Adam doubted. "In this particular area he is even too mature for his age."

The rest of the conversation got lost in the variety of voices. Besides, Ben had no intention of getting interested in Adam’s businesses. How could the boy have behaved like that towards his father? He has always been such a good boy, and made no trouble; maybe a short banishment will bring him to his senses and he will apologise for his behaviour.

"Hi, Ben," the mayor smiled as broadly as his office required. "Good you’re there. We want to make an official Mother’s Day in the city; what do you say?"

"I’m no mother," Ben smiled at him. "But, of course, it’s a wonderful idea."

"You see, we’d also like the fathers to come. Oh, actually everyone is invited. The children wrote essays on their mothers, the best will be read out. I believe your son chooses them together with Miss Sanders, doesn’t he?"

"Why did you want to see me?", Ben asked, ignoring the mayor’s question.

"I’d like your advice as to the entertainment for the men. It wouldn’t look well if it was a holiday only for women."

"Didn’t Miss Sanders think of something?", he was fairly surprised.

"She keeps everything a secret, but being the mayor I HAVE TO know in advance. And Adam speaks in monosyllables, if he doesn’t manage to disappear before I’m there," complained the mayor. "I can’t let WOMEN organise it."

Ben couldn’t help smiling. "Well, why not just ask her if there will be something for the men, and offer funds. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it." The mayor sighed deeply; then, spotting someone behind Ben’s back, he called, "Adam! Adam, would you kindly..." "Have work," Ben’s eldest sailed swiftly beside them towards the exit.

"Sorry, mayor." He was gone.

Not even trying to apologise, thought Ben angrily. You won’t get ME apologising, thought Adam obstinately, and don’t even dream of my doing it in public. He just couldn’t help being as stubborn as his grandfather had ever been. But it wasn’t actually his fault that they quarrelled, and not more what they quarrelled about. Why should he do everything at the ranch? Let the others work for a while. (Somehow, he did not notice how hard he had worked recently at the school and with the sheriff.) He still felt surprised by the long-lasting fatigue, in fact. No work – and he didn’t get enough rest yet. Maybe he just needed to do something on the ranch?

He sighed. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed his father coming out. Standing there completely alone, with a sudden feeling of regret Adam whispered soundlessly, "I’m sorry, Pa."

***
Joe and Hoss were not extremely happy during Mother’s Day. Their only hope now was to find Adam, their usual consolation on this day. At last, they spotted him, standing in the corner with Miss Sanders. She had just left him to go on the stage, when they caught up with him.

"Adam, come home," Joe hugged his brother. "I promise I’ll do my chores next time, just be back."

Adam smiled at them absent-mindedly, "Sit down."

"What’s now?", Hoss asked curiously. "Will the essays be read?"

"The best three," Adam was looking thoughtfully at Miss Sanders. "Let’s see how you like them."

The composed voice of the teacher was flowing over their heads. "Adam, why did you quarrel with Pa?", complained Joe. "It’s awful at home, Pa’s always angry with us."

"How is he?", Adam looked concerned. "I didn’t really mean it, it just..." He sighed. "I don’t think I should feel guilty, but I somehow do."

"Apologise to him," suggested Hoss.

"Never," Adam’s jaws clenched for a moment, his eyes darkened. Hoss sighed. "If mama were here..." "Mama is NOT here," Adam interrupted him sharply and looked at Miss Sanders. She began reading the second best essay. "The next one is the very best," said Adam in a moment, his voice calm and soothing again.

"Please listen and tell me how you find it."

Joe and Hoss exchanged worried glances, when he placed his hand on the table – it was thin and ivory. They had already noticed his pale, ivory complexion, dark circles under the tired, slightly reddened eyes, bloodless lips and miserable looks.

"Adam, you’re ill," said Hoss with a concerned look. Have you been to the doctor?"

His brother smiled reassuringly, making all the alarming symptoms fade away. "I’m just tired. I hope Pa’s all right, isn’t he?"

"I guess," Joe shrugged his shoulders. "He would be better if you came back." "I don’t think he’ll allow me, without an apology on the part of mine," Adam smiled bitterly. "Oh, now it comes, listen carefully." He leaned towards the stage with expectation.

"Now I am going to read the essay which is considered to be the best really," Miss Sanders took the sheet and began reading.

‘All that I ever knew about my mother was that my birthday was the annual of her death. Recently, a Somebody ("with capital S", Miss Sanders noticed quickly) told me she was protecting me all the time from up above. Then I asked myself the question how she really is – up there. Apart from my father, the only person who behaved towards me like a parent, and very much so, was the Somebody. The way I see the person is exactly how I see my mother now. I see her sitting just beside me, attentive and protecting me from anybody hurting me. She does not allow the others to enter our privacy. She cares for how I feel, soothes me when I am upset, and smiles at me when I need encouragement. While I do something that deserves punishment, she abandons it for her love. And the more she loves me, the more my deed hurts me, because I hurt the person who loves me so much as to abandon the punishment. She comes to me to explain, to help, to soothe my pain and sorrow, although she has so much to do, although she should not find time enough. I understand my father has little time for me, because he works hard to dress and feed me, and I am grateful to him for this; she sacrifices all her time to me, even if she lacks it. My father spanks me if I do something wrong, and rightly he does; she hugs me. My father is only one parent, and however much he loved me, I sometimes felt lonely; now, I am no more. I know that the Somebody will be gone from my life soon, but I trust my mother to stay. I trust her in everything. I am unimaginably grateful for her coming to me in the Somebody to let me know I have a wonderful loving mother.’

Silence reigned for a while. Then, an almost wild applause awarded the boy’s work. Hoss, Joe and Adam stood up; so did Ben, and then the others. After some time, the discussion about the events united most of Virginia City dwellers in the centre of the room. In the dark corner, Hoss lent Joe his handkerchief, sniffing uncontrollably; they also noticed Adam’s red eyes, and were quite surprised at his words. "It’s good you were here and listened," he said calmly. "I never thought it would have such an effect when read out, but it’s good. You see, Mother’s Day does not have to be a mourning day." Tears rolled down Joe’s face; Adam pulled him to his chest in a paternal gesture, and willingly admitted Hoss into the embrace. "Sometimes it must hurt," he tried to soothe them. It took them a while to calm down, but at last they separated.

Nobody seemed to have noticed them; nobody but little Timothy Cooper. "Mr Cartwright," Mr Cooper touched Adam’s arm gently. "My son wanted to speak to you." Adam pulled himself together and squatted in front of the boy. "What is it, Tim? How did you like the evaluation of your essay?" Tim shifted uneasily.

"It’s just about the essay, Mr Cartwright," he said shyly. "Why? Is something wrong?", surprised, Adam looked up at the father, then back at the son. "I thought you would be happy about winning the contest." "It’s not about the contest," the boy bit his lip. "I... had nobody to give it to... and ... I...", he sighed nervously. "I... made a copy especially for you." Adam stared in astonishment at the carefully done calligraphy. Tim mustered up his courage. "You’re the Somebody, Mr Cartwright." Seeing the man’s appalled face, he explained quickly, "I know I was cheeky to you, and you didn’t punish me at all, and you spoke so about my mother... I mean, you made me see her, and that’s why I want to give you the essay."

Hoss and Joe exchanged glances, and then Hoss bent, gave his elder brother a hearty pat on the shoulder and said jovially, "The practice of mothering the two of us comes out, big brother." Adam looked at Tim, feeling somewhat embarrassed. "Honey...", he broke off, lacking words. Instinctively, he hugged the boy gently, overcome by some indeterminate warm feeling when Tim returned the hug wholeheartedly. Adam sighed deeply. "Thank you, sweetheart." "Thank YOU," corrected Mr Cooper. "You gave the boy so much happiness, and me – the awareness of his feelings. Thank you so much, Mr Cartwright."

***

Ben knew his two younger boys spent half of the day with their brother, and felt extremely curious as to why they beamed with inexplicable joy of love. Usually, Mother’s Day was a holiday to pass as quickly and almost thoughtlessly as possible.

Were it the essays? The last one... ‘All I ever knew about my mother was that my birthday was the annual of her death...’ Maybe he should have reconciled with Adam today? He saw his boys embracing each other with tears, and Adam hugging the shy boy who was speaking to him. A family should be together on such a day, and especially their family.

"You talked to Adam, boys?", he asked, trying to sound naturally. "He’s paled," Hoss answered with sudden concern. "He says he’s tired but to me it seems he’s ill." "He asked how you were," interrupted Joe.

"Let him come back, Pa. Why did you actually quarrel?", he asked curiously.

"He didn’t clear the stable," explained Ben. He felt he needed to talk about it. "But... Pa," Joe looked at him in surprise, "wasn’t it my turn then? I was to town, and wanted to do it later..." Ben pulled the horses to a stop and turned around on the seat. "What?!"

"Had you asked me...", Joe backed slightly. "Seems you expect Adam to do everything, no wonder he’s put off weight and looks so ill," he answered back immediately. "Pa, how could you?", Hoss’ eyes expressed such reproach that Ben felt his stomach turning. "You’re right, Hoss," he admitted bitterly. "How could I?"

***

The gash looked really bad; it was still bleeding. The doctor put a clean cloth on the wound and began to bandage Adam’s forehead, grumbling under his breath. "I’ve always said the boy was overworked. And as if the fainting wasn’t bad enough, he had to hit his head against the desk’s edge. Good the sheriff found him. All the Cartwrights need to be supervised; that’s exactly what one should do, supervise them. The boy works like a slave, tortures himself with memories, hardly sleeps and just asks himself for health trouble."

The black lashes, too black on the bloodless cheeks, fluttered for a moment; then, after some seconds, again. Adam opened his eyes; he was not really conscious yet. "She...", he couldn’t even whisper. The doctor gave him some water; Adam seemed to have come round completely now. "I thought I saw her," he said faintly, looking around. "I was... scared," his voice sounded of incredulity.

"I guess I stumbled," he recalled after a second thought.

"Don’t talk," the doctor tucked the blanket up around his patient. "You should rest now."

"I think I saw her," repeated Adam. "Yes, I saw her." He was squinting at something behind the doctor’s back. He smiled suddenly. "Yes."

"Adam, you’re all right?"

"Don’t you see her?", he asked in a tired voice, and let the heavy eyelids fall. "Extreme weakness – may cause hallucinations," murmured the doctor as though repeating a lesson. "Poor boy."

***

It was late when Ben made it to town. He had needed time to prepare for the conversation with his first-born after what had happened recently. The news of the Somebody’s identity made him feel even more guilty. He stood by his horse for a while, thinking, should he ask in the hotel or maybe by the sheriff? From the shadow came a few quick steps and another shadow emerged.

"Pa?"

"Adam?", Ben was by his son in two long strides. "What happened, boy?", he looked in astonishment and anxiety at the bandages on Adam’s forehead. "I stumbled," explained his first-born, looking around.

"Seen anybody?"

"No," Ben became more and more concerned by his son’s appearance: waxen complexion, emaciated face, dark, bluish shadows under reddened eyes, bloodless, almost bluish lips...

"You’re ill, boy. I’ll take you to the doctor..."

"Just been there," Adam interrupted him. "Listen... I’m sorry I quarrelled with you. I shouldn’t have. I apologise."

‘Had this boy really felt guilty?’, Ben was astounded, ‘and for no reason, as a matter of fact?’

"I’m taking you home," he decided quickly. "You must lie down." Adam’s eyes narrowed; he said in a strained voice, "Apologise for spanking me." Ben took his arm gently and stated firmly, "At home."

On the way home Adam was silent and apparently apathetic, which made his father fairly anxious about his condition. "How did the doctor allow you to go out?", he wondered aloud. "She wasn’t there, I thought she was somewhere out in the open air," said Adam absent-mindedly.

"Adam?", Ben touched his arm, convinced they were talking at cross purposes now. Adam stirred and looked at his father as one woken up from the deepest
slumber.

"Sorry, Pa, what were you saying? I’m... just tired, I didn’t hear you."

"Are you really all right, son?"

"Just tired," Adam settled back to the apathetic posture of before. "Need some sleep, that’s all."

***

Hoss and Joe exchanged astonished but joyous glances at the sight of their brother. His miserable looks, however, turned their joy into concern. Ben motioned them to silence and put an arm around Adam’s shoulders. "Son," he began seriously. Adam raised his eyes questioningly at his father’s face, apparently perfectly conscious now.

"I apologise to you for losing my temper and... spanking you like a child. I’m sorry."

Adam threw a glance at his brothers and turned his eyes on Ben again. "You... didn’t have to really..."

"They saw what I did and they should know it was wrong," Ben answered him firmly and added gently, "I’m sorry."

"I’m really sorry, Pa, I didn’t want to quarrel with you like that," Adam sighed. "Honestly."

Ben hugged his shoulders. "Did the doctor actually allow you to go home?", he asked, just to reassure himself. Adam rubbed his forehead sleepily. "I don’t think he knows I went out," he said thoughtfully, squinting. "No, I don’t think so. May I go to bed now?"

"I’ll ride to Virginia City," Joe grabbed his hat. "Shall I bring the doctor here?"

"Please do," Ben left Adam in Hoss’ arms and hastened upstairs to prepare the bed for his son.

***

"Overworked," stated the doctor, sinking in the armchair. "He sure got me scared when I found the bed empty. I prescribed him bed arrest for a week."

"So long?", Ben frowned worriedly. "Is he so bad?"

"Well," the doctor sighed, "he was already delirious in my office, said something about a ‘she’... seems he was hallucinating. It’s possible in extreme weakness and tension, and Adam was... well... present on the Mother’s Day..." "I believe he corrected the essays," recalled Ben. "Adam never knew his mother, why should it have such an effect on him?"

"Maybe for the simple reason that his birthday is the annual of her death?", suggested the doctor. "He was very weak already. Wait a moment, maybe the ‘she’ he spoke about was his mother?", he wondered. "Hallucinations are sometimes predictable, you know."

"It might have been," Ben’s gaze rested on the photos over the fireplace. "But you said a few days’ rest will get him back on his feet, didn’t you?"

The doctor contemplated Hop Sing’s coffee with pleasure. "Perfectly."

***

Late in the evening, upon going to bed, Hoss looked around cautiously and asked Joe quietly, "You think they are here?"

"Who?"

"Our mummies, who else?’

"Hoss..."

Adam shifted in his sleep; his fingers were restlessly searching for the woman’s hand on the bed’s cover.

THE END

RETURN TO LIBRARY