The Last Laugh
By
DebbieB
The
group of people that assembled together in the chapel after Sunday morning
worship service wasn’t a large group, but it was made up of some of the finest
people in
It
was early May, and time to start planning for the annual church festival that
the congregation hosted each year in order to raise money for various needs of
the church and the surrounding community.
This year, Adam Cartwright, Ben Cartwright’s oldest son, headed the
event.
“Any suggestions for something different? I mean, we always have the usual, the bake
sale, the pie contest, dress making, and,” he laughed, glancing at Hoss, “the
prettiest baby contest.”
Everyone
else glanced at Adam’s middle brother and laughed. “Hoss, ya gonna judge that again this year?”
someone in the back of the group asked, causing the room to fill with laughter
once again.
Hoss
had been the judge for the Prettiest Baby Contest the year before and had ended
up with every woman who had an infant young enough to enter the contest, mad at
him. Hoss scrunched up his face and
shook his head.
“Nosirree,
I’m leavin’ that job to some other fella,” declared Hoss loudly, leaving no
doubt to the group of people that they’d have to look elsewhere for a new
judge. “Maybe my Pa,
would be willing to…”
“Oh no you don’t young man.” Ben’s deep
voice rang loudly in the chapel as all heads turned in Ben’s direction. “I think that job should fall to the mayor,
he’s the one that spent his election campaign kissing those babies!” laughed
Ben.
Everyone
started to laugh. “Then
it’s settled,” shouted Adam, before the mayor could decline. “Everyone in agreement, raise your hand. Count’em Hoss,” Adam said quickly.
Hoss
stood to his feet and glanced around the room.
“No need too, it’s unan…younam…everyone agrees,
ain’t no one saying no,” beamed Hoss, relief showing on his chubby face as he
smiled at the mayor and then sat back down.
“Why
not have a greased pole climbing event? Every one can pay…say a dollar to enter, with
the prize money going into the church fund?” one of the men spoke up to
ask. “I’ve seen it done before, it can get pretty funny watching the boys trying to
climb up those slick poles.”
“How’s
it done?” inquired another.
“Well,
you have two poles, flag poles really and we grease them with lard, or oil,
make them real slick and then the boys compete against each other until one is able
to get to the top, then that boy is the winner.”
“Sounds
good to me,” Little Joe piped in to say.
He rubbed his hands together as if he were a child waiting for a special
treat.
Ben
watched with amusement, his youngest son, and wondered silently if the boy
would ever truly grow up. Secretly, he
hoped not, he loved Little Joe just the way he was, young and full of life…and
mischief, thought Ben.
“Alright,
then we need two poles, Tim, since you came up with the idea, why don’t you see
if you can find us two poles that we can use?” Adam said as he wrote down
greased pole climbing contest to his list of things to do. “Anyone else have an idea?”
“How about if we have a log pulling contest? The men from the lumber camp can furnish the
logs from one of my camps, and then the loggers can team up, use their own
horses? Ben suggested.
“That
sounds like a good idea, but Adam, why not form a committee
to ask some of the merchants to furnish prizes for the events? That way we
could charge an entrance fee to the festival…so much per person to see all the
events rather than to charge the participants a fee to enter, that way we
collect one time and the pot of cash then goes to the church fund?” Mr.
Hamilton the banker suggested.
“Sounds
logical to me, how about the rest of you?” inquired Adam.
Everyone
nodded their heads in agreement to the one time entrance fee as Adam made
notes. When he’d finish, he moved on,
glancing around the room at the excited faces.
“Anything else?”
Joe
cleared his throat and smiled, “We are going to have a kissing booth, aren’t
we?”
The
room erupted in to gales of laughter at Joe’s suggestion, for they all knew of
the youngest Cartwright’s slightly tarnished reputation involving nearly every
woman in
“Well,
why not?” Joe stammered, looking as if his feelings were hurt. “Why, I’d pay a dollar a kiss just to
kiss…hahaha…I’m not telling, Miss Cindy, don’t you dare look at me like that!”
“Joe
Cartwright, shame on you, why…I’d give you an old dollar NOT to kiss me!” Cindy
Hamiltion, the banker’s daughter said as she stood to her feet and placed her
hands on her hips.
Joe’s
face began turning red as Cindy sashayed up to the youngest Cartwright. “Why Joe Cartwright, I do believe you are
blushing,” giggled Cindy.
Joe
gulped, and Cindy giggled again, “Don’t worry, Little Joe, I won’t give away
our little secret,” she whispered in a low voice so that only Joe could hear.
Adam
watched with an amused look on his face and almost felt sorry for his little
brother, though he wasn’t sure just why.
His brother had begun to squirm and as his face grew redder, Adam
decided to help him out of an obvious touchy situation.
“What’s
it be, do we or do we not have a kissing booth?” Adam asked.
“I
have no objections, if it is done properly,” the minister was quick to speak
up. “Just a quick peck on the cheek,
nothing more, we have to remember that this is a church fund raising event!” he
added as an after thought.
The
group once again nodded their heads, the younger men and women smiled shyly at
one another, and Joe was off the hook, for whatever it was that Miss Cindy knew
and no one else did.
“I
have an idea, I’d like to present, it’s something I
saw the last time I was in
“What
is it?” one of the ranchers asked.
“It’s
called a dunking booth. What it really is, is a water tank, filled with water and a seat that
extends over the rim, above the water.
On the outside there is a lever that drops the seat down and when the
target is hit the person who is sitting on the seat, falls into the tank of
water. It’s really pretty neat, and
quite fun, too. One person at a time
gets three tries to hit the lever, for a small fee, if they hit it and the
person falls in, the one throwing the ball gets a prize,” explained Adam.
“Hey
that’s a great idea, I saw one of those at a fair
once, over in
“I
suppose we would have to have a volunteer,” replied Adam. “It would have to be someone who wouldn’t
mind getting wet, naturally, and someone not too big, or the seat might not
hold him up.”
“Cain’t
be Hoss Cartwright!
Ain’t no seat that strong, ‘ceptin’ maybe his horse!”
“Aw
dadburnit Shorty, I cain’t help it none, I’m just a growin’ boy!” Hoss called
back to the man in the back of the room.
“Any volunteers?” Adam asked, waiting for a reply.
The
group glanced around at each other as if waiting for the next person to be the
first to volunteer.
“Hey Adam, how’s about Little Joe? He
ain’t big like Hoss, and he’s always such a good sport. What’cha say Little Joe,
ya willing to get wet for a good cause?” Mitch Devlin called from across the
room.
Everyone
turned to Joe and began encouraging him to be the man in the hot seat, or
rather, the wet seat.
“Come
on Short Shanks…”
“Aw…I
don’t know, Hoss,” Joe said, beginning to squirm, he’d plan on spending his day
at the kissing booth.
“Be
a good sport little brother, besides, it might keep you out of trouble,” Adam
grinned, winking at this father.
“Now…”
Ben
moved beside of Joe and placed one hand on his son’s shoulder. “It is for a good cause son, and since it
will be on Saturday night, you won’t even have to take a bath afterwards,”
teased Ben, lowering his head and laughing softly.
When
he looked up, Joe’s face was distorted by anxiety, but nonetheless, his son
gave in to the pressure and smiled, nodding his head.
“Okay,
I’ll do it, but I’m warning you,” he said, pointing to Hoss and Adam, “it had
better be after I get to visit the kis…pie eating contest,” he stammered.
Ben
laughed and gripped his son’s arm, “Thank you son, and remember, it is for a worthy cause.”
“Yeah,
yeah, right…I get dunked into a tank of cold water, and you call it a good
cause, but let me stop by the kissing booth and you call it a…”
“I
know what I call it, thank you!” smiled Ben.
The
men spent the next few days gathering the poles for the greased pole contest,
and the lumber for the dunking tank, and the women folk began digging through
their pie recipes, dress patterns and the mothers of infants, began preparing
their babies for the prettiest baby contest.
By the time that the church festival was scheduled to take place,
everything was ready and in place, including the dunking tank, which had been
filled with water.
“You
about ready, Joe?” called Hoss as he grinned at his father and Adam who were
waiting in the great room for their youngest family member to show himself.
“I’ll
be down in a minute, you fellas go ahead, I’ll catch
up!” Joe shouted from his room where he stood studying his reflection in the
mirror.
“Oh
no you don’t,” Adam called loudly, “I’m waiting right here, you’ve been trying
to get out of this ever since you volunteered.”
Adam grinned at his father and Ben laughed softly.
“I
didn’t volunteer for this, and you know it,” Joe said, as he stepped to the
door so that his older brother could better hear him. “My so-called friend, Mitch, volunteered me…I
had other plans on how to spend the evening.”
“Were
you planning on spending the entire evening at the kissing booth, son?” laughed
Ben.
“Well,
maybe not the entire evening,” Joe said, coming slowly down the stairs.
“My,
don’t ya look plum purty,” grinned Hoss, playfully
slapping his brother on the back.
“Such a waste too, Hoss. The first
time he gets dunked, those new clothes of his will be ruined,” Adam said
teasingly.
Joe’s
face formed a frown and he glared at his two brothers. “What makes you so sure, I am going to get
dunked?” he asked.
Hoss
tossed back his head and laughed. Adam
grinned mischievously and placed a firm hand on his little brother’s shoulder.
“Cause
I aim to throw the first ball, and…you know what a good shot I am, so get
prepared little buddy, for your bath!”
Hoss
and Adam burst out laughing as they strolled to the door and donned their
hats. Joe’s frown deepened as he watched
the pair. He turned to his father when
Ben rested his hand across Joe’s shoulders.
“Don’t
take it seriously son, they are only teasing you. And remember…it’s for…”
Joe
groaned, “I know, it’s for a good cause,” he grumbled and then offered his
father a smile. “Come on, I might as
well get this over with, I have a feeling it’s gonna be a long night.”
Ben
snickered softly. “That’s the spirit,
son.”
Joe
made his first stop at the kissing booth.
He smiled brightly when he saw that the first beauty was Cindy Hamilton,
the girl that Joe was currently interested in.
“Good
evening, Miss Hamilton,” greeted Joe, smiling.
“Why,
hello Little Joe,” Cindy smiled.
“Here’s
my dollar,” Joe said offering the bill to the pretty girl.
Cindy
glanced down at Joe’s hand and smiled, taking the dollar from his hand and
stuffing it into a box under the counter.
“Hurry
up Little Joe,” called a voice from behind him.
Joe
turned seeing Dan, one of the local boys that worked at a neighboring
ranch. Joe made a mocking smile and held
his hand up.
“Just
hold your horses, I’ve paid my dollar and I aim to take my time and enjoy
this,” he said.
“Fine,
just make it fast,” Dan called.
Little
Joe rolled his eyes, but smiled at Cindy.
“Come here,” he said in a whispered voice, waiting for the girl to lean
across the counter so that he could earn his dollar.
Cindy
smiled.
“It’s
a shame I have to pay to kiss you, when you didn’t seem to mind my kissing you
last night without having to pay,” whispered Joe, grinning.
Joe’s
face turned bright red from the slap that Cindy rendered. “Hey!
What was that for?” cried Joe, taken back by the blow.
“That’s
for being so sure of yourself, Mr. Cartwright!” Cindy
snapped. “Next,” she called, ignoring
Joe and smiling sweetly at the man behind her suitor.
“Hey,
wait a minute, I didn’t get my kiss!” Joe stammered.
Cindy
turned dark eyes at the startled young man.
“You’ve gotten all you’re getting from me, Mr. Cartwright.”
“Come
on Joe, move it,” said Dan, laughing as he shoved Joe out of line and laid his
dollar on the counter.
Joe
had no other recourse but to step aside as the other men in line pushed
forward. He was disappointed and stood
to the sidelines, rubbing his reddened face and nursing his wounded pride. Suddenly he felt the pressure of hands on his
shoulders and turned, surprised to see his older brother standing behind him.
“If
you’re through fooling around, and from the looks of your face, I’d guess that
you are, we are waiting for you at the dunking
booth. You coming willingly, or do I
have to drag you, screaming and crying?” taunted Adam, though he wore a
friendly smile on his handsome face.
Joe
scrunched up his face at this brother and dropped his hand, no use trying to
hide Cindy’s brand from his brother.
“Women, I’ll never figure them out!” moaned Joe.
Adam
laughed and patted his brother’s back.
“You’re not suppose too, little brother. That’s what makes fools out of a man, trying
to understand women…it can’t be done, you see, once you think you’ve got them
all figured out, they go and do something totally different. It’s a never ending battle pal, so don’t
try!” laughed Adam. “Besides, it’s
what’s so alluring about them.”
“Well,
tell my face that…that little gal wallops a powerful punch and I don’t even
know why she hit me,” Joe said, rubbing the side of his face once more.
“Don’t
let it get to you, kid. Look, there’s
Hoss, he’s waiting for us,” said Adam pointing toward Hoss who was hurrying
over to meet them.
“Hey
Joe, where ya been, we dun got people waitin’ fur ya,” the big man said, “Come
on, get in there,” Hoss said, pointing toward the tank filled with water.
Joe
glanced in the direction where they had set the tank up and was surprised to
see that a small crowd had already gathered.
He gulped, swallowing the knot that had formed in his throat.
“That’s
Pa!” Joe said weakly.
“Yep,
that’s Pa alright, he was the first one in line,” laughed Hoss, taking Joe by
the shoulders and nearly having to drag the boy to the back of the tank where
the ladder was.
“Now
get ya ornery butt up there on that perch and let’s get this show on the road,”
he ordered.
Joe
took a deep breath and slowly climbed the ladder and took his spot on the
narrow seat. He glanced down into the
water, dread already washing over him.
He glanced at the crowd, seeing his father’s face and the smile that
silently told him, he was fixing to get wet.
“Pa,
I can’t believe you would do this to me,” Joe said, a sickly smile plastered on
his face.
“Well
son, it’s for a good cause,” laughed Ben, tossing the first ball, which missed
the target.
Joe
laughed, and when the second ball missed the target, he laughed again. The third ball whizzed through the air and
just nicked the edge of the target. Joe
giggled loudly, “
The
lever snapped suddenly and before Joe could utter another word, the water
washed over him as he plunged into the tank.
The
crowd burst out laughing as Joe came sputtering to the surface and slowly
climbed back on to his perch.
“Lucky
shot,” he sputtered, giving Ben a crooked little grin.
“I’m
sorry son, but I just couldn’t help myself,” laughed Ben, moving from the line
and giving the next person a chance to do the same to his soaked son. “You have fun Joe, I’ll come by later and
check on you,” Ben called as he moved off into the crowd.
Mitch
Devlin was the second in line, and he laughed when he saw the surprised look on
his best friend’s face.
“OH
MITCH, NOT YOU TOO!” yelled Joe just as his friend threw the ball, hitting the
lever and dropping the chair. Joe was
swept underwater and came up spewing a stream of water from his mouth.
The
crowd roared with laughter. Ben heard
the racket and glanced back toward the tank just in time to see Joe take yet
another dive. Ben watched for a moment,
a smile spreading across his face. Joe
certainly was being a good sport about this he thought, and then groaned when
Mitch called out to his son.
“Remember
the other day Little Joe, that practical joke you played on me? Well, now it’s pay-back time,” laughed Mitch
and threw another ball.
“Aw
Mitch…that was just in fun,” Joe called as he settled himself on the seat.
“So
is this…and this is even for a good cause, so unlike your practical joke,”
snarled Mitch, grinning as he flung the ball.
The
ball flew past the lever, coming within inches but missing. Joe burst out laughing as he wiped the
dripping water from his face.
“Gonna
have to do better’n that, old pal,” mocked Joe.
Mitch
laughed right along with his friend, his sky blue eyes dancing with
excitement. “Oh, I’m not finished yet
Cartwright,” he laughed and then pulled another dollar from his pocket.
He
turned to the attendant, “Give me three more balls,” he said, glancing at Joe
and laughing at the shocked look on the dripping boy’s handsome features.
Silently,
Joe groaned. He looked out among the
crowd, which had doubled and watched the expressions on all the faces. ‘And these people are suppose to be my
friends,’ he thought as he felt the chair beneath him give way.
Joe
slid down below the surface of the water but this time he stayed down longer
than before. He was holding his breath,
trying to grab a moment of rest for himself, for he was already becoming tired
out from the continuos dunking into the tank.
When
Joe came up, the crowd had become unusually quiet. Joe glanced around toward them and then
suddenly they began to cheer.
“Thought
we’d lost ya there for a moment, Short Shanks,” called Hoss, who was standing behind
Mitch.
“Hurry
up, Little Joe. I wanna dunk ya again, I
owe you, remember? And I aim to
collect,” called Mitch, tossing one ball up and down in one hand.
“Okay,
okay,” answered Joe, making himself comfortable. “Just give me…”
SPLASH!
Down he went again.
Joe
popped to the surface and just as he turned to sit, Mitch threw the ball for
the final time. SPLASH! Poor Joe was
beginning to tire, but being the good sport that he was, he climbed for the…how
many times had it been?
“HOSS! Not you too!” Joe moaned.
Hoss
laughed loudly, “That’s right, little brother.
I owe ya, too. Remember the other
night when Bessie Sue and I were walking in the moonlight,
and ya popped outta the woods, dressed like a werewolf? Remember what happened to that poor little
gal?”
“Aw
Hoss, I already said I was sorry for that?
Ya can’t still be mad at me…can ya?” squeaked Joe.
He
knew it was a dumb question, of course Hoss was still
upset about what he’d done. He had only
meant to make a hero out of his middle brother, not have him the one rescued by
Bessie Sue!
The
ball whizzed by so fast and hard that no one had even known when Hoss had
thrown it. Had it not been for the
spatter that Joe made when he hit the water, the crowd would have still been waiting
for Joe to plead his case against his brother.
Twice
more the youngest Cartwright was dumped into the water and twice more Joe
climbed to his perch. His hair dripped
drops of water into his face and Joe hardly had time to brush back the damp
locks of curls before another participant threw the ball. Each time someone
different stepped up to the plate, they reminded Joe of a joke that he had
played on them, and each swore that today was payday.
Joe
was tiring quickly and he wondered if he would last until the end of the
day. They had hardly given him a break,
his trousers were soaked, as was his shirt and they seemed to weigh him down
and grow heavier each and every time that he returned to the wired seat. As he glanced at the long line of players, he
wondered briefly if they were all here to get back at him for some joke he had
played on them or some misconduct that he had unknowingly taken part in.
Adam
was next in line and behind him was the sheriff, Roy Coffee, and Doc Martin,
and then Clem, and there was…Cindy Hamilton??
‘Darn,’ moaned Joe, ‘she’s already slapped me…now she wants to drown me
too?’
Adam
never said a word, he just smiled that crooked little
smile of his, the one that made his dimple deepened into his cheek. Joe screwed up his mouth and took a
breath. It was a good thing, for in the
next instance, Joe was in the water. As
he came to the top he glanced at his brother, Adam’s eyes glowed and Joe knew
why. Hadn’t Joe forgotten to tighten his
brother’s saddle cinch just the other day, and hadn’t Adam fallen off his horse
because of it? Joe remembered Adam’s
anger that day.
“Just
you wait Joe, I’ll remember this day…and if it takes me a year, I’ll get you
for this,” Adam had sworn.
‘Short
year,’ thought Joe just before he hit the water again.
The
third ball was just as accurate; Joe felt the water wash over his body and when
he came up, he was surprised to see Adam standing next to the tank waiting for
him to surface.
Adam’s
face was expressionless and Joe had no idea what his brother was thinking,
until he spoke.
“We’re
even now.” Adam started to turn but
stopped and looked back at Joe. “You’re
a good sport, kid.” Adam gave his
brother a smile and winked at him, leaving his brother to be dunked again and
again by the others that wished to…get back…at the mischievous boy.
Hoss
and Mitch were waiting for Adam on the sidelines, out of Joe’s view. They could hear the lever clicking and the
crowd laughing and knew that Joe was taking another dunking.
Adam
grinned as he joined his brother and Mitch.
“Three out of three…guess that squares things with Little Joe,” said
Adam.
“Yeah,
reckon it does,” Hoss replied gloomily.
“What’s
with you?” Adam asked, seeing the unhappy expression on Hoss’ face.
Adam
turned to see what it was that Hoss was so intently watching,
he smiled when he realized that his middle brother was watching their kid
brother being dunked repeatedly.
“Ya
reckon he’s had enough?” Hoss asked, turning to face Adam and Mitch.
“NO!”
said Adam quickly. “There’s still at
least a dozen or more folks that want a chance to get even with that joker,”
stated Adam.
“Aw
shucks Adam, ya know Little Joe never meant no harm by them jokes he’s always
playin’ on people,” Hoss complained, following Adam and Mitch as they moved
down the street in search of some other fun.
“I
know that, but still, we all agreed that Joe would be volunteered for
this. It was your idea to sucker Joe
into getting into that tank in the first place,” Adam said in a low voice.
“Yeah,
but the tank was your idea, not mine…and ‘sides, I didn’t know so many people
would be joinin’ in. The kid’s tired
Adam, ya seen him, and ya know as well as I do, he won’t quit, he never does,”
Hoss pointed out.
Mitch
started snickering. “That’s right, he won’t,
but then again, he never stops playing those infernal jokes either, Hoss. What he gets tonight is only a smidgen of
what he dishes out daily to everyone else.
Let them have their fun, maybe Little Joe will learn something after
tonight.”
“I
suppose ya right, but somehow, it don’t seem fair to the boy,” grumbled Hoss,
following along after his older brother.
The
afternoon seemed to drag on and on for the wearisome boy. Joe was dragging and though he longed to toss
in the towel and call it a day, his pride would not permit his quitting. So he stayed and he was dunked over and over
until he felt as if his lungs would burst from the amount of water that he had
swallowed. To make matters worse, the
sun had begun to slip behind the mountain peaks and with the lowering came the
evening breeze. The tank had been
refilled with water that seemed much chillier than the previous tank and Joe
had begun to shiver.
Ben
appeared around suppertime and had urged his son to call a halt to the dunking,
claiming the need to eat and rest, but in truth, Ben had begun to fear for his
son’s well being. He could see Joe’s
lips trembling, he noted the bluish tint to his son’s
lips and knew that Joe was cold. His
main concern was that his son would become sick from his experience in the
festival’s dunking tank.
“Joe,
come on son, enough is enough,” Ben proclaimed.
“You’re freezing to death in that water.”
“I’m
alright, Pa…it won’t be much longer,” Joe said, his voice already growing
hoarse.
“Move
outta the way, Ben, I got a score to settle with that young’n of yours,” called
Jonesy, the town’s harness-maker.
Ben
scrunched up his face and looked at Joe, holding his hand up to force Jonesy to
wait for a minute. “What did you do to
him?” whispered Ben as he stood beside the tank and talked to Joe who perched
on the trick seat.
Joe
shrugged his shoulders and gave his father a forced smile. “I dunno, Pa…I can’t remember doin’ a thing
to him…unless it was…”
The
ball buzzed passed Ben’s head, nearly hitting him along his noggin. Ben jerked his head around, glaring at
Jonesy.
“Hey,
I asked you to wait a minute, I was talking to my…”
The
second ball shot by, brushing against the rim of Ben’s hat and forcing him to
duck. The ball somehow managed to hit
the target and before Ben could straighten, he heard the click of the seat and
felt the splatters of water as Joe sank to the bottom of the tank.
Jonesy
laughed, “Better move Ben, I have one ball left and I aim on using it against
that rascal son of yours’n, “ laughed the leather
master.
“Don’t
you think my boy has had enough, good God man, he’s been in there since
Ben
watched as Joe slowly and laboriously climbed on his perch and turned, giving
his father a quick smile before finding himself back at the bottom of the
tank. Joe was slow in rising to the
surface. He had not been expecting
Jonesy to throw the ball so soon after the last toss and Joe, being unprepared,
had swallowed a large amount of water.
Ben
watched from the top where he had climbed the ladder, his son who seemed to be
struggling to come to the top.
“JOSEPH!”
shouted Ben, looking down into the tank.
“What’s
wrong, Pa?” Adam called, seeing his father on the ladder bending over the edge
of the water tank.
Ben
glanced up, caught Adam’s eye and motioned for him to hurry over. Adam looked quickly at Hoss and then ran the
short distance to where the tank was.
“Help
me pull him up, he’s too worn out to push himself to the surface,” Ben
explained anxiously.
Adam
climbed up beside his father and with Ben’s help, each grabbed at Joe’s arms,
pulling him to safety. Joe began
sputtering and coughing, spitting water from his mouth. His body went limp as Adam and Ben carefully
dragged him from the large pool and laid him carefully on the ground.
Joe
groaned and tried to get to his feet.
“Let go,” he whined. “I can’t get
out…they’ll think I’m a quitter,” he muttered in a weak voice.
“No
they won’t son, you’ve given them their money’s worth,” Ben said, softly.
The
last of the lingering crowd began to gather around the star of the show. One man laughed, “You did okay, kid.”
“Great
show, Cartwright,” called another.
“You’re
a good sport Little Joe, being as how they set you up for this,” one man called
from behind the others.
Joe,
who lay on the ground shivering, forced himself in to a sitting position. “What’s he talking about?” he asked his
father.
“I
have no idea, son,” Ben answered, which was the truth.
Ben
had been unaware that there had been a conspiracy going on against his youngest
son. He turned troubled eyes up at his
two older sons, but they were looking elsewhere and refused to meet his dark
eyes.
“I’ll
get Joe a blanket,” muttered Adam, turning to search for one.
“I’ll
find a towel,” Hoss added and hurried to follow his older brother.
“I
thought you said he’d never find out, Mr. Knowitall,” fumed Hoss to Adam. “When Pa figures out what we did, we’ll never
hear the end of it,” Hoss continued to grumble.
“Well,
just keep quiet about it for now, here, take this blanket to Pa and Joe, the
kid’s freezing,” Adam instructed.
He
was beginning to worry slightly about what he and Hoss and a whole slew of
others had plotted to get even with Little Joe for all the times he had bested
them in one of his little jokes or schemes.
By
the time that Adam returned to the dunking booth, Joe had dried off and changed
into clean clothes and looked, to Adam, none the less for what he had been put
through. The boy did look a mite on the
tired side, decided Adam after they had ridden most of
the way home and Joe had been unusually quiet.
Adam studied his brother’s posture and noted how the boy slumped in the
saddle and again a nagging fear for his brother’s welfare stirred his
conscience. Perhaps they had over done
themselves in their little joke, he considered, glancing at Hoss and noting
that his middle brother appeared just as concerned.
When
they reached the barn, Joe was all but asleep and nearly falling from his
horse.
“Joe,”
called Ben, moving to his son’s side and resting his hand on the boy’s
leg. “We’re home son,” Ben smiled up at
Joe.
“Okay,”
murmured Joe sliding down from the saddle.
When
his feet touched the ground, his legs buckled beneath him and had it not been
for his father standing so close, Joe would have crumbled to the ground. He’d never known, for he appeared asleep on
his feet and he leaned against his horse.
“Come
on, little boy, let’s get you in bed,” smiled Ben as he slipped his arms about
his son and gently guided the boy to the house.
“I’ll
take care of his horse for’em,” offered Hoss.
“I’ll
help you get him in bed,” volunteered Adam, taking a hold of Joe’s free arm and
helping to guide him into the house.
Once
they had Joe in his room upstairs, they gently lowered his sagging body to the
bed. Joe lay where he landed, undaunted
by the fact that his father and older brother had begun to remove his clothing
and was soon tucking him beneath the warm covers.
“His
body feels chilled,” whispered Ben, touching Joe’s arm and feeling the
coolness.
“All
that water probably, look at his hands and feet, they
look like prunes,” smiled Adam, tucking Joe’s feet under the blanket.
“Well,
he’s starting to shiver, please, would you tell Hop Sing to send up some warm
blankets?” Ben asked as he pulled a chair up to the side of the bed. He leaned down, placed the back of his hand
to Joe’s brow and then let out a long sigh, at least the boy wasn’t running a
fever, he thought.
Adam
was on his way from the kitchen with the blankets that Hop Sing had warmed for
him when the opening of the front door stopped him.
“Hey,”
Hoss greeted, “how’s Joe?”
“Freezing,
and he looks like a gigantic prune, his entire body is wrinkled. I have to take these blankets up for him, to
try to warm him up a bit,” replied Adam as he moved on toward the stairs.
“I
think we over did it tonight, Hoss. I’m
afraid Joe may be sick over this,” he whispered as he neared the opened bedroom
door.
“Lordy,
Adam, I’ll never forgive myself if anythin’ happens to that boy,” groaned Hoss.
“Shh…”
cautioned Adam, slipping into his brother’s bedroom.
“
“Thank
you son,” Ben said as he pulled back the blanket covering his sleeping son and
then, with Adam’s help, unfolded the warm blanket and spread it out across
Joe’s trembling body. They opened the
second warmed blanket and did the same and then covered both with the first
blanket. Ben was careful to tuck in all
the edges so that none of the warmth could escape. When he finished, he sat down in the chair
and let out a sigh.
“I
should have never let him stay in that tank for so long. He’s going to be sick and it’s all my fault,” whispered Ben, turning to look up at his two
sons.
“What’s
wrong with the two of you?” he asked, seeing the worried expressions on their
faces.
“Nothin’…’ceptin’
Joe gettin’ sick,” stammered Hoss.
“Oh
don’t worry, son, I was just thinking out loud,” Ben said, quick to console his
middle son, who worried about anything and everything where his little brother
was concerned.
“Pa…”
Adam said, glancing at Hoss and then back at his father. It was time to confess and Adam knew that
Hoss would never be able to get the confession out, so he jumped right to the
point. “It won’t be your fault if Joe
gets sick…it’s mine,” confessed Adam.
Ben
looked startled.
“And
mine…and a lot of other people’s fault as well, but not yours,” Hoss added.
“What
do you mean, your fault, and yours,” he said, pointing to Adam. “And what does everyone else have to do with
whether or not Joe gets sick? And who is everyone else?”
Hoss
gulped and glanced at Adam, he was silent for several moments before speaking
up. “Hmm…you tell him, Adam, you’re
better with words than I am,” Hoss floundered.
“Maybe
we should go downstairs,” suggested Adam.
“I wouldn’t want to wake him up,” he said, nodding his head toward Joe.
“I
don’t know what this is all about, but I have a feeling, I’m not about to hear
something that will please me,” Ben muttered, rising from his chair and
following Adam and Hoss out into the hall.
Before Ben pulled the door closed, he glanced one last time into the
room to be sure that Joe was sleeping soundly.
The
three made their way down to the great room, and when Ben had reached the
bottom of the stairs, he turned to Adam.
“Now,
what was it that you were going to say that you felt so important that we had
to come down here?” Ben asked, noting the way that both boys glanced from one
to the other yet refused to look at him.
“I
asked you a question.”
“Pa,
it was like this…” began Adam.
“Yeah
Pa, like this…” Hoss added.
“Like
what? Would you two please start making sense
and tell me what in the world is going on here?” scolded Ben, taking a seat in
his red leather chair.
“Pa,
we, Hoss and I and some of Joe’s friends, one’s that he has played his jokes
on, fixed the dunking tank especially for Joe…” Adam started to explain.
Ben
stood up, his hands stuffed into his pockets as he eyed his sons. “Wait a minute, are you saying, this whole
dunking booth was planned for your brother?
For heaven’s sake, why?” he stammered when Adam and Hoss nodded their
heads.
“It
was a joke, Pa…that’s all,” muttered Hoss.
“To
give everyone a chance to get back at the boy for the practical jokes he’s
played on everyone,” Adam said. “The
dunking booth was my idea, I confess.”
“And
it was my idea to have someone volunteer Joe for the job,” Hoss said, pinching
his lips tightly together.
“We
didn’t know it would get so out of hand.
We thought only a few of his closest friends would take a turn dunking
him, we didn’t plan on half the townsfolk getting in on the action,” said Adam,
plopping down in his blue chair.
“We’re
sorry,
“That’s
right! You didn’t think!” shouted Ben,
and then, remembering his sleeping son, lowered his voice. “I don’t believe you two,
oh I understand trying to get even, but to have all of your brother’s friends
to go along with you? This is worse than
anything Joe has done to the lot of you!” stormed Ben.
He
edged his way around the furniture and Hoss and stopped at the bottom of the
steps and turned back to face his apologetic sons. His eyes had turned dark and when he spoke,
he waved his pointer finger in the air at them.
“Understand
me, if you brother gets sick, each of you will take time about doing his chores
for one solid month! Do I make myself
clear?” Ben demanded.
Hoss
lowered his head, reminding his father of the times his middle son had done the
same thing as a boy. Adam’s lips formed a
fine straight line across his face, but he nodded his head.
“Yessir,”
Hoss said softly.
“Good,
now I’m going up to sit with your brother, I would suggest to the two of you
that each of you find something useful to do with your spare time, for I have a
feeling that you won’t have much of it left.”
Ben
turned and started back up the steps, unaware of the pitter-patter of footsteps
that ran silently down the hall. The boy
jumped back into the bed, pulled the blankets up to his chin, and by the time
that his father sat down in the chair next to his bed, Joe could have truly
been sound asleep.
It
was all that Joe could do to keep from bursting out laughing. So, his brother’s had set a trap for him and
he had stepped right into the middle of it.
‘Oh,
just wait,’ thought Joe, ‘this snare you’ve set for yourself, all I have to do
is wait until the time is right and then spring the trap.’ Joe grinned to himself…and he thought that he
had been such a good sport, too!
He
heard his father as Ben crossed the room, and quickly closed his eyes, faking
sleep. He almost flinched when Ben’s
hand pressed against his forehead, checking for fever. And when Ben sighed and sat down, Joe chanced
a small smile.
‘Hmm,’
he thought, ‘this entire dunking tank scheme had been planned by his brothers
and his friends to get back at him for his practical jokes and not to benefit
the church,’ Joe surmised, ‘and now those same two brothers were worried that
he’d be sick. Serves them right,’ smiled
Joe. ‘How many of his friends were in on
the joke? Mitch was, for sure,’ Joe
figured. ‘And Cindy?’ Joe really hated to think of the pretty faced
young woman taking advantage of him in such a way. ‘They’re all ruthless,’ Joe summed up. ‘I have to think of some way to even with them,
but what?’
Joe
suddenly sneezed.
“Joe?”
Ben whispered as he leaned over the bed, searching for his son’s face in the
dim glow of the lamp.
“Hmm…”muttered
Joe, hoping his father had not realized that he wasn’t really sleeping.
“Are
you okay, son?” murmured Ben.
“Sleepy,”
Joe moaned, softly, keeping his eyes closed tightly.
“You
rest then son, Pa’s right here,” Ben whispered as he brushed at the locks of
hair that had fallen to Joe’s brow.
“Hmm…okay,
Pa…night,” Joe said, drifting off into loll-loll land for real.
By
the time that Joe made his appearance at the breakfast table the next morning,
he had decided what he would do to get back at everyone for their part in the
practical joke that had left him water logged.
One look at his two brothers, as he sat down in his seat, told him what
he needed to know. They were worried
about his health!
“Morning
son,” smiled Ben, greeting his youngest as Joe slipped into his chair.
“Morning,
Pa,” Joe said, lowering his voice too barely above a whisper.
“Mornin’
Short Shanks…what’s wrong with your voice?” Hoss inquired, casting worried eyes
at Joe and then at Adam and back to his youngest brother.
Joe
made a point to clear his throat, and forced a smile, “Too much water, I reckon,”
he said.
“You
aren’t feeling poorly, are you little buddy?” Adam
hurried to ask; suddenly ashamed of what he had conspired to do to the boy.
“Naw,”
Joe said, giving Adam a pathetic glance, and hearing his brother sigh in
relief, “leastwise, not too poorly.”
Adam’s
eyes darted from Joe to Hoss and then to their father. Joe almost burst out loud laughing at the
startled look on his brothers’ faces.
“I
reckon I’m just still tired from all that dunking I took yesterday. The water sure was cold,” Joe hinted.
Ben
watched his youngest son intently, and tried to determine just how poorly the
boy was feeling. Before he could ask,
Joe sneezed, surprising them all.
“Excuse
me,” Joe said. He was just as surprised
as the others, he hadn’t expected to sneeze; but he smiled to himself for the
timing was perfect.
“God
bless you,” Ben said quickly. “Joseph,
perhaps you should rest up some today.
Since you aren’t feeling well, maybe you should go back to bed. I can have Hop Sing fix you something on a
tray and have it brought up to you,” suggested Ben, worried now that Joe was
sicker than he was letting on to them.
Joe
glanced around the table and then turned to his father. “I’d love nothing better Pa, but I have
chores to…”
“None
sense, you’re brothers won’t mind doing them for you, will you boys?” Ben said,
turning to Adam and Hoss, his eyes dark and brooding, and telling both that
they had better agree with him.
“No,
course not Short Shanks, Pa’s right, maybe ya better just go back to bed,” Hoss
spoke up first to agree.
“We’ll
do your chores for you…today,” Adam agreed at last, glancing at his father.
“Joe,
I just want you to know, that I think you were a good sport…about yesterday I
mean. The dunking booth took in more
money than what the main entrance fee brought in. You are a hero, as far as the church
community is concerned,” smiled Adam.
“And, as far as I am concerned, I don’t think I could have been so accommodating as you were.”
“Really?” Joe said, honestly surprised at his oldest brother’s comment.
“Sure,
I wouldn’t joke around about a thing like that,” admitted Adam. “ I’m proud of you kid,” smiled Adam.
“So
am I short shanks,” smiled Hoss.
“Guess
that makes three of us, son. Now, back
to bed with you…I don’t want you sick, and I’m sure your brothers don’t
either,” Ben said seriously, glancing at his two oldest sons.
“Pa…really,
I’ll do my chores first and then…”
Ben
made a stern face and pointed toward the stairs.
“Okay,
okay, I’m going,” laughed Joe and then sneezed again.
Joe
lay awake, staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Funny, he thought, he’d never noticed how the
chink between the wide boards over his bed, seemed to make patterns on the high
ceilings. He studied them intently for
several moments and then flipped over on his side trying to get comfortable.
He
had just peered out the window and had watched as Adam and Hoss worked about in
the yard and barn. Joe’s conscience
bothered him just a mite; he really was feeling worse than when he had first
gotten up, but not to the point that he should have been in bed. At first Joe sort of liked the idea of
staying in bed all day and letting his conniving brothers do his chores, but
the day had dragged by slowly and he was bored.
And he had sneezed repeatedly, and when he swallowed, he felt the
burning sensation in the back of his throat.
He wished he had company, anyone with whom he could just talk with, but
being short handed, his family was having to take more time to do all the yard
and barn chores.
Suddenly
a light rapping at his door caused Joe to jump.
He quickly pulled the cover up to hide his half-naked body and then
called gently.
“It’s
opened, come in,” he said, his voice growing hoarse now.
“Hi
ya, Little Joe,” Mitch said from the doorway where he was peeking around the
corner of the door. “Mind if I come in
and sit a spell?”
Joe
straightened himself up in the bed, and cleared his throat; it still
burned. “Naw, come on in,” Joe said.
Mitch
eased slowly into the room and took a seat in the chair close to the bed. “I didn’t know if’n ya would see me or not,”
he said softly.
Joe
frowned slightly, “Why would you think that?”
“Well,
after yesterday…you know, I dunked ya quite a few times and I thought perhaps…”
“I
was mad?” Joe sneezed and had to wipe
his nose. “I ain’t mad at you,” he said,
swiping his nose a second time.
“Ya
pa said he thought ya was getting’ sick.
He said you shouldn’t have been in that cold water as long as ya was,” Mitch said. He
glanced at Joe and watched how his friend crinkled up his face every time he
swallowed.
“Ya
throat hurtin’ Joe?” he asked out of curiosity.
Joe
moved his hand to this throat and rubbed gently, nodding his head. “Yeah, it burns and feels scratchy. But hey, it will be okay, it ain’t nothing,”
Joe said as he sneezed.
“Say
Joe, I was wonderin’ sumthin’,” began Mitch.
“I feel really bad about what I dun to ya yesterday, and I was thinkin’,
maybe I could make it up to ya somehow.”
Joe
smiled and then cleared his scratchy throat.
“Could you pour me a glass of water?”
Mitch
smiled and stood to his feet. “Sure,” he
agreed, grabbing the pitcher and pouring Joe a glass of water. “Here,” he said as he turned and handed Joe
the glass.
“Thanks,
Mitch,” smiled Joe.
Joe
turned the glass upward and took a long drink, watching his friend over the rim
of the glass. “Would you mind going down
to the kitchen and asking Hop Sing to fix me some soup? I could use a bite of something to eat,” Joe
asked in a raspy voice.
“No,
I wouldn’t mind, I’ll be right back,” Mitch smiled and hurried from the room.
Joe
grinned and placed the glass on the table beside the bed. “This might be fun after all, I’ll have them all
hopping by the time they realize that I’m not really sick. Ole Joe Cartwright will have the last laugh
after all,” he said in a whisper.
Mitch
came back minutes later with a tray of soup and a small pot of coffee and set
the tray across Joe’s lap. As he backed
up, he smiled down at his friend.
“Would
you mind fluffing my pillows?” Joe smiled pleasantly.
Mitch
quickly did as asked and when he’d finished, he stood back, as if waiting for
his next order.
“Thanks,
Mitch, you’re such a good friend,” Joe said, and then sneezed.
When
Mitch had his back turned, Joe quickly slipped his silverware under the
covers. “Hey, Mitch,” Joe said in his
raspy voice.
Mitch
turned from the window, “Yeah?”
“How
am I suppose to eat this soup? You forgot to get me a spoon,” Joe smiled.
“I
did?” asked Mitch, surprised as he moved closer to the bed and looked down at
Joe’s tray. “I could have sworn I
grabbed a spoon and laid it right there,” Mitch said, moving things around on
the tray.
“Ain’t there,” whispered Joe. “Do you
mind? I mean, I don’t like cold soup.”
“No,
course not, I’ll be right back,” answered Mitch heading for the kitchen.
Joe
couldn’t refrain from snickering, ‘serves ya right, friend.’
By
the time that Mitch returned, Joe was busy eating his soup. His friend stopped dead in his tracks,
staring opened-eyed at the spoon that Joe held in his left hand. Joe smiled brightly.
“Must
have slipped off the tray when you set it down, I found the spoon here under
the corner of the blanket,” Joe explained.
“Whew,”
sighed Mitch, “good thing, I’m wearing myself out, running up and down those
stairs, how do you manage it all the time?” he asked, flopping down in the
chair.
“Guess
I’m just used to it,” Joe said between bites.
“Say Mitch, I hate to ask you to do anything else for me, but this
coffee is cold, would you mind asking Hop Sing for a fresh pot?”
Mitch
took a deep breath and gritted his teeth, he was almost sorry that he’d stopped
by to visit his best friend. “Naw, I’ll
get it for ya, and then I guess I’d better be getting’ on home, my Pa wanted me
to help him…hmm…”
“Do
some chores?” Joe supplied, hiding his smile behind his napkin as he wiped his
mouth.
“Yeah,
some chores, that’s it Little Joe, my Pa needed me to help
him with the chores,” muttered Mitch, grabbing the pot of cold coffee and
practically running from the room.
When
Mitch was out of hearing range, Joe began to giggle. When he heard his friend’s heavy footsteps
coming back up the stairs, Joe snuggled his head down into his pillow and
closed his eyes. He heard Mitch stop in
the doorway and gasp loudly.
“Well, dadburnit,” Joe heard Mitch grumble.<