THE MATCHMAKER
Meira Bracha
November 2002
“Ow!” he yelled, for the tenth time in the last five minutes, as he stumbled
down the rocky road in his stocking feet. “Could this day get any
worse?’
“Great, now you’re talking to yourself Adam Cartwright. Well it’s
not like there’s anyone else around. Of course this road is empty today!
It would be too much to ask for someone to be heading in my direction!
OUCH! That does it!”
Adam looked down to see blood slowly seeping through what remained of his
left sock. He bent over and picked up the offending sharp-edged stone
and hurled it as far as he could throw, then sat down where he was, in the
middle of the road. “It’s not as if I’m in danger of being mowed down
by passing traffic, and there’s no shade at the side of the road either,”
he muttered.
He took a long sip from his canteen, then he rolled his jacket into a makeshift
pillow and lay his head upon it. “Someone is bound to come along eventually,”
he thought. “At the rate I was going, I’m not going to make appreciably
less progress getting back to the Ponderosa lying here than I would walking.”
Was it only a yesterday that he’d been a competent, self-confident boss?
He and his brothers had driven a small herd of cattle to Eastgate where
Adam had received an even higher price per head than the windfall they had
made there the previous year. “Business negotiation is an art,” he’d
explained to Joe as they emerged from the buyer’s office. “I hope
you learned something watching me in there.”
Hoss had walked up in time to hear Adam’s pronouncement, and joined the
conversation saying, “Brother, I figger hand-hirin’ is an art too.
That Andy Cavendish you hired to drive our supply wagon got hisself locked
up on drunk and disorderly charges last night. The sheriff here is real
persnickety. He ain’t gonna let Andy go ‘til the circuit judge comes
around next week. Seems that Andy did something kind of unspeakable
to the flowerboxes the sheriff’s wife had put outside her husband’s office
to kind of spruce up the place.”
“Now Adam,” interjected Joe, “How many times do I gotta tell you that just
‘cause a fellow knows how to play the piano real pretty, don’t mean he’s
gonna be a reliable employee? Maybe next time I hire a man you should
watch me. Maybe you’ll learn something.”
“Don’t be too hard on ole soft-hearted Adam here, Joe,” continued Hoss.
“You know how he can’t help but pick up strays iffen they happen to be musical.”
“Spoken by someone who has been bringing home the sorriest assortment of
sad sacks for as long as I can remember,” rejoined Adam.
“Be that as it may,” answered Hoss, tapping his older brother on the chest
with his right index finger, “This particular sad sack left us with a mule-drawn
wagon to get back to the Ponderosa. I say the brother that hired him
gets to take over his job. What do you say Joe?”
Joe appeared to ponder the question. “Sounds reasonable to me, Hoss,”
he finally replied.
“You win boys,” sighed Adam. “Would you mind bringing Sport with
you? I have a feeling you’re going to make it home a long time before
I do. Bring the money too. Pa is going to want to put it in
the bank as soon as possible.”
Adam noticed Joe and Hoss having a whispered conversation as the three
prepared to depart. Hoss spoke first, “You know, Joe and me, we’re
not in such an all-fired hurry to get home to all those chores waitin’ for
us. We could give our horses a break and go at the mule’s pace.”
“Yeah, Adam,” Joe added. “We were just kidding around before.
No reason anyone should have to travel home alone from Eastgate.”
“Are you two making a general point about not traveling alone, or is there
something about this situation that particularly concerns you?” asked Adam,
with a smirk and raised eyebrows that suggested that he knew the answer.
The younger brothers looked uncomfortable. “Look Adam, last time
when just you and me made this run to Eastgate, splitting up for part of
the way home turned out to be a rotten idea,” Joe said. “I just don’t
want to make the same mistake twice.”
Joe was alluding to the time that Adam decided to take a roundabout route
home through the wilderness, with the goal of getting in some hunting and
fishing in solitude. He’d been bushwacked and left for dead, then
rescued by a miner who turned out to be a madman. Adam had initially
agreed to work for the miner in exchange for the loan of his mule.
The miner cruelly held Adam captive, overworking and starving him.
Ben, Joe and Hoss had almost given up looking when they found Adam, on foot,
dehydrated and delirious, dragging the dead miner on a travois.
“Look fellas,” replied Adam, “I appreciate what you’re trying to do.
But I’m not superstitious. I travel alone all the time. There’s
no reason I can’t drive a mule and wagon from Eastgate to the Ponderosa
without two nursemaids. Don’t worry. Unlike last time, I plan
to stick to the main road. And as you said, I’m the one who hired
Cavendish, I’m the one who should suffer the consequences.”
And that’s how Adam Cartwright came to be plodding down the backcountry
road in a near-empty supply wagon. It was a pretty monotonous journey,
so you could hardly blame him for passing the time with a book. DeToqueville’s
descriptions of his travels in America were riveting, so Adam didn’t notice
the lone robber until he felt the rifle barrel poking at his head.
The horseman had approached stealthily and positioned his mount so he could
reach out and deftly snatch Adam’s pistol from his holster before Adam had
a chance to react.
When the robber discovered that there was nothing of value in the wagon,
and that Adam was not carrying a significant amount of money, he decided
to steal the mule and wagon as well as Adam’s pistol and boots. “They’ll
be worth something,” he said. “And if I take them it will be a while
before you’ll be reporting me to any authorities, especially with night
coming on. Anyways, I doubt any sheriff is gonna be able to raise
much of a posse to go chasin’ a mule and boot thief!” Seething with
fury, Adam slowly removed his boots.
The robber laughed at his own cleverness, and rode away. This time
Adam was left a full canteen and a supply of hard tack and beef jerky. Fuming,
Adam had walked as far as he could before darkness fell, and then spent
a miserable night under the stars. He resumed his trek in the morning,
but after a few hours he had stepped on the sharp stone and made the decision
to lie down.
As he lay there listening for approaching travelers, he kept imagining
the welcome he would get from his family. “Sure, they’ll probably
be relieved that I’m alright, presuming that they have even missed me yet.
But then I can just picture Pa setting his face into that fierce look which
my younger brothers receive so often. His voice will get very deep
and he’ll bellow something like, “WHAT happened to the mule and wagon, and
WHERE ARE YOUR BOOTS?’ It would be just like him to turn from relief
to anger! And those brothers of mine are going to be so smug.
‘HOW many men did it take to get one sorry mule away from you? You
wouldn’t have been not paying attention now, huh Adam? You wouldn’t
perhaps have been READING?’ Well, maybe I won’t have to mention that
part of it. And at least the miserable miscreant let me keep the book.”
Soon Adam was so immersed in his reading again that it took a moment for
the sound of a horse and wagon to penetrate his consciousness. Adam
peered westward and could just make out the approaching conveyance.
“Looks like Aaron Kaufman’s wagon. At least he’s someone who’s more
likely to be sympathetic than sarcastic. Too bad he’s heading the
wrong way. I wonder if he’d be offended if I offered to pay him for
a ride home?”
As the boxy black wagon approached Adam could see that there were three
people sitting on the bench seat. He recognized the woman as Aaron’s
daughter Rebecca, but he had no idea who the younger man was.
Adam had harbored more than a passing fancy for Miss Kaufman, and she seemed
to like him too, but she always held herself back a little. Adam knew
that their different faiths created the obstacle, but he was never sure
if the tension arose from Rebecca’s own convictions or if she were acting
solely in deference to her father. In either case, Adam had great
respect for the kind and learned peddler and had avoided allowing a situation
to develop which would create a conflict with him.
Adam rose to his feet and tried to brush some of the dust off his clothes
before the wagon pulled up beside him. “Why Adam Cartwright!
Are you all right young man? How did you come to be here alone, with
no horse and…” Aaron looked down with surprise at Adam’s shredded socks ”…no
shoes?”
“Mostly it’s my dignity that’s been hurt. As to how I came to be
in this predicament, that, Mr. Kaufman, is a long and sad tale.”
Rebecca suppressed a smile behind her hand. She disappeared
into the wagon, emerged with a canteen, soap and some clean rags, and climbed
down. “I see you are bleeding. Let me tend to that foot for
you.”
While Adam submitted to Rebecca’s ministrations, Aaron spoke further.
“Adam, allow me to introduce you to Friedrich Gould. He is a baker
from San Fransisco. He comes with us to make a very important delivery
to Austin, Nevada. Friedrich, this is Adam Cartwright, a rancher from
near Virginia City, and a friend.”
As Adam was temporarily incapacitated on the ground while Rebecca cleaned
and bandaged his wounded foot, Friedrich stepped down from the wagon to
shake his hand. “Please call me Fred. Mr. Kaufman makes me sound
too important. My father is the baker. I just work and learn
from him.”
“I work for my father, too, Mr. Gould. We have something in common.
Mr. Kaufman, I wonder if I could trouble you for a ride to the Ponderosa?
I’ll make it worth your while.”
“Adam, I would not accept payment to help a friend in need. But we
have an urgent delivery to make. You are welcome to ride along with
us. You can wire your family from Austin to let them know you are
all right, and we will gladly drop you at your home on our way back.”
“May I ask the nature of the delivery, that it has such urgency?”
“Of course. There is a small Jewish community in Austin. We
are bringing them matzos for the Passover holiday, which begins in two weeks.
If we want to get home in time to prepare for our own Passover, we really
must not delay.”
Adam wrinkled his brow in concentration. “If I recall correctly,
Passover is the celebration of the Exodus from Egypt. So would matzos
be the unleavened bread?”
“Yes, you know your bible, Adam”
“My father made sure of it,” answered Adam. “The Children of Israel
left Egypt in such haste that they did not have time to let the bread they
made rise, so they ate unleavened bread.”
Aaron went on. “And we’ve eaten it at Passover ever since in commemoration
of the departure from Egypt. So you understand that Jews, even Jews
who live in the wilds of the Nevada territory and have perhaps let many
of our laws and customs lapse, would still be anxious to have matzos for
the Seder?”
“Seder?” asked Adam, unfamiliar with the word.
“Seder means order. It is the name of the special meal we eat on
the first nights of Passover.”
Rebecca added some detail. “We drink four cups of wine, eat matzo
and bitter herbs, and read the story of leaving Egypt from a special book
called a Hagoddoh.”
Aaron beamed at his daughter. “To make kosher matzo requires knowledge
and skill. Friedrich’s father makes the only matzo for maybe a thousand
miles or more. The demand in California was higher than he anticipated,
so he was only able to send Friedrich to Carson City three days ago with
my order, most of which I had promised to deliver to Austin. Friedrich
generously offered to accompany us to make sure that the matzo got there
safely. If your life were in danger from your injury, I would of course
put your need first, Adam. But since, thank G-d it is not, I must continue
without further delay. But I don’t want to leave you here alone.
Please come with us.”
“I understand, and I accept your kind offer of hospitality,” answered Adam.
There was only room on the seat for three, so Fred cleared out a space in
the wagon and Adam climbed in. Aaron joined him, and they were on
their way.
“Wouldn’t you be more comfortable riding up front?” asked Adam, as he tried
to find a comfortable perch among the crates.
“Perhaps, but I didn’t want to leave you alone,” replied Aaron. “Besides,
I wanted to give Rebecca and Friedrich some time together. I am close
enough to be a proper, how do you say it, chaperone.”
Adam gave Aaron a look of curiosity. “Rebecca and Friedrich are…?”
“Friends, that’s all. At least that’s what Rebecca keeps telling
me. I know she likes him. But I think she feels, I don’t know,
restricted. She meets so few eligible men I think she is afraid she
may be missing something. He’s a good man, kind and studious; he’ll
be a good provider. She enjoys spending time with him. And he
I think is madly in love with my daughter. It was so much easier
for me in Europe. My parents found the girl they thought was right
for me, negotiated with her parents, and all that was left for my Ettie
and me was to agree to be married.”
“That’s not exactly the American way,” said Adam.
“America. It’s a wonderful country. We are free to live as
we choose. We can build better lives. But with so many choices,
how do we teach our children to make the right choices?”
“Isn’t it possible that what’s right for the children is not what the parents
think is right?”
“Perhaps. But if my daughter marries outside her faith it means that
the generations of my family and my wife’s family that were strong enough
to remain Jews and pass that on to their children could end with her.”
“Has Rebecca shown any interest in men who are not Jewish?”
“I hope you are not being coy, Mr. Cartwright.”
“I’m sorry Mr. Kaufman. Rebecca is lovely, smart and beautiful.
But I would never force my attentions on her or do anything to put a wedge
between you and her or to jeopardize our families’ friendship.”
“Adam, I’m sorry. I pick you up off the road, wounded and in need,
and instead of feeding and comforting you I provoke and embarrass you.
Forgive me.”
“Nothing to forgive. She’s your child and you worry about her.
My father certainly spends an inordinate amount of time worrying about my
brothers and me.”
“A parent’s prerogative. And who knows. Maybe if Friedrich
sees you as a rival, it will spur him to be bold enough to propose to Rebecca.”
“Propose? Have they known each other long?”
“Since they were children. Though I brought my family with me to,
forgive me, the wilderness of Carson City, in order to make a living; we made
a practice of going to San Francisco to be with other Jews for our most holy
days, Rosh Hashonoh and Yom Kippur. We used to go for Passover too
until I began delivering matzo to remote communities like Austin.”
“Anyway,” Aaron continued, “Our first Rosh Hashonoh there we were prepared
to sleep in the wagon. This was before there was a synagogue in San
Fransisco. Holiday services were held in a private home.
My Ettie met Lotte Gould when they had both taken the children outside to
play a bit. One thing led to another and we ended up spending that
holiday and almost each one since with the Goulds.”
“Now Heinrich is a real German, and he still sometimes teases me about
being one of the uncultured Polish Jews. But with him it is only teasing.
He has stayed closer to the faith than most of the German Jews, and when
the German synagogue in San Fransisco began to become what they call Reformed,
he joined the Polish synagogue, which still tries to do things the way they
have always been done—according to the Law. So Gould and I have more
in common than not.”
“Every year it seemed that Rebecca and Friedrich became closer.
She bakes nice things that she knows he will like, and he teaches her German
poetry. But they have been more standoffish this year: Rebecca
I think for the reasons I told you, and Friedrich out of shyness.”
“Ach Adam, still I bother you with my troubles when you have troubles of
your own. Rest now, and I will be quiet.”
On the wagon seat Rebecca and Fred could hear when the conversation inside
stopped, but neither had been able to discern what was being said.
After Adam and Aaron had settled back there, the two on the seat had rode
in silence for a while. Then Fred asked Rebecca if she had known Adam
long.
“I met him when I traveled with Papa on a selling circuit. We made
a sale to his father and later he helped us out of a difficulty we had with
a ruffian.”
“So you only know him as a customer?”
“No, he is a friend too, I think. He taught me to ride a horse and
we made a meal for him and his family at our home in Carson City.“
“Do you like him?”
“Certainly. He is a kind man, and very intelligent too. He
went to college back east.”
“I see.” Fred bit his lip and looked down.
Rebecca noticed Fred’s reaction with surprise. She looked back towards
the closed wagon with its two occupants and looked back at her seatmate.
Her eyes opened a bit in surprise and she made a small smile. “Of
course a man doesn’t have to go back east to be educated. There are
lots of good books available in San Fransisco, and cultural opportunities
too.”
“Yes, certainly,” replied Fred. “Still, perhaps someone could think
that a person who had traveled more might be more interesting.”
“Well if riding all over the Nevada and California countryside in a peddler’s
wagon counts, I’ve done a lot of traveling myself. Not to mention
being brought to this country from Poland when I was a baby. You were
born in Europe too, Freddy.”
“It hardly counts as traveling if I don’t much remember it. All I
can recall is a cold, wet boat and feeling horribly sick.”
“That’s more than I remember, but I think I am grateful for that.
It’s getting dark, should we look for a place to stop for the night?”
“If your father agrees.” Fred halted the horse and knocked on the
wagon. Soon it was decided to set up camp. They built a small
fire for warmth and to cook a pot of beans. Rebecca cut up some dried
meat and added it to the beans along with a few pinches from a package of
dried herbs. Adam sat next to her and kept the fire fed.
“So tell me more about your Passover holiday,” Adam prompted.
Rebecca began to explain some of the Seder rituals, and also some of the
special laws for keeping kosher during Passover. Aaron beamed again
at his daughter, then tilted his head and nodded at Freidrich as if to say,
“You see. She cooks AND she is a scholar!”
Fred kept taking mournful glimpses of Rebecca and Adam chatting together
so amiably. He tried to look in Rebecca’s direction only when she
was looking elsewhere. His face was filled with longing. When
she glanced at him, he busied himself by checking that their horses had
been well-fed and secured for the night. “A man must take care of his
animals before himself,” he said.
Adam took in the little wordless drama. It occurred to him that while
Fred Gould might have bookish cultural interests like his own, his technique
with women more resembled Hoss’s. Adam got up and limped over to Fred.
“Here, let me help you feed these beasts,” he said.
“Thank you, but there is no need. I am finished here. The horses
are fine,” Fred replied.
“You know, anybody can see Rebecca really likes you,” Adam said.
“You think so?” answered Fred. “You mean you are not…that is to say…you
don’t mind?”
Adam felt torn, but he only hesitated for a moment. “Mind?
No. The Kaufmans are friends of my family, that’s all. Rebecca
is a lovely young woman. Anything that would make her happy
would please me. Ah…you know I bet she could use a hand fetching water
from the stream. Why don’t I finish up here and you go help her?
What do you say?”
“Thank you, Adam,” replied Friedrich.
Adam watched as Fred shyly approached Rebecca and spoke quietly to her.
The pair walked off together toward the stream which was hidden from the
campsite down a short incline. Adam settled himself by the fire where
Aaron was sipping a glass of tea. Aaron looked up and said, “You are
a rather devious man, Adam Cartwright. You know how to get people to
do what you want them to do. I am glad you are on my side.”
“Just yesterday I was trying to explain to my brother Joe that negotiating
with people is an art. The skills involved don’t only apply to business
transactions.”
Aaron laughed. “But if you are so knowledgeable about bringing
couples together, how is it that you are still single?”
“You are sounding like my father again, Mr. Kaufman,” replied Adam.
“I have come close to marriage a couple of times, but it never quite worked
out. I guess I just haven’t met the right woman.” Adam intentionally
neglected to mention that he suspected that Rebecca Kaufman might have been
very right for him.
Soon Fred and Rebecca returned to the campsite, each with one hand on the
handle of the water bucket they carried between them. Rebecca was
smiling broadly and Fred sported a shy grin. Rebecca turned to Fred
and asked, “Wasn’t there something you wished to discuss with my father?”
Fred’s smile disappeared. He stood in front of where Aaron was sitting.
Fred’s facial expression reminded Adam of men he had seen awaiting sentencing
in a court of law. “Rebecca, what say you and I check those horses
one more time and give these two men their privacy?”
When Adam and Rebecca had walked the short distance away, Fred began by
clearing his throat. “Mr. Kaufman…Herr Kaufman…Reb* Kaufman…”
“So many names I have?” inquired Aaron, his eyes twinkling. “Or are
there three of us here?”
Now Fred let his words rush out in an uniterupted stream. “Mr. Kaufman,
I wish to marry your daughter. I will cherish her and provide for
her and make a Jewish home for her. I know I am only assistant baker
now, but my father said he would make me a partner when I married….”
“I consent,” stated Aaron quietly.
Fred went on without really hearing, “…I will do my best that Rebecca should
never want for anything…Did you say you consent?! Oh thank you Mr.
Kaufman, thank you.”
Fred hurried over to where Adam and Rebecca were standing with the horses.
“He said yes!”
Rebecca laughed. “So I gathered, Freddy.”
Adam spoke up, “I believe the proper thing to say is felicitations to the
bride-to-be?”
Aaron walked over and put an arm each around Rebecca’s and Fred’s
shoulders. He looked at each of them and then addressed Adam,
“We say mazel tov!”
The next day the foursome arrived in Austin. Word spread quickly
among the Jews in town that the matzo had arrived. Aaron’s supply
sold out quickly. Aaron had also brought a case of sweet Passover
wine, which he donated to the community, leaving it the charge of a burly
and sober Jewish miner who promised that it would go untouched until the
holiday.
With the exception of two families, all the Jewish residents of Austin
were single men, mostly miners. Rebecca joked to Fred, “Good thing
for you you proposed on the way here. Look at all these eligible Jewish
men!”
Fred at first looked horrified, then his face melted into a smile when
he realized she was teasing. Adam and Aaron got a good laugh too.
Aaron loaned Adam the money to buy some boots and to wire his family that
he was safe. Three days later Adam was home at the Ponderosa receiving
all the good-natured teasing he expected from his family, and more.
It seemed that the day after Adam had wired home, his mule thief had the
ill fortune to ride into Virginia City while Hoss was in town depositing
the money from the cattle sale. Hoss recognized the mule and wagon
and fetched the sheriff. The thief was now in jail and the mule, wagon,
boots and gun were back on the Ponderosa.
“Seems to me that thief ought to get off easy,” commented Joe, as the family
sat on the porch after dinner the night Adam returned. “In the end
the only serious damage was to Adam’s dignity and that actually needed a
little squashing down.”
One look at Adam’s face and Joe took off at a run, with Adam on his tail.
Hoss bet his Pa a dollar that Joe would outrun him. “He’s mighty fast,
and Adam has that sore foot.”
Ben took the bet, saying, “Yes, but Adam’s fueled by that pride of his,
of which he has an inexhaustable supply, squashed down or not.” replied Ben.
I’ll leave it the reader to decide whether Ben or Hoss was more likely
to have won the bet. Whoever won, Joe and Adam must have eventually
stopped running because three months later all four Cartwrights together
attended the wedding of Friedrich Gould and Rebecca Kaufman in San Fransisco.
END
Notes: The Jewish communities of late nineteenth century San Fransisco,
California and Austin, Nevada did exist more or less as described.
Aaron and Rebecca Kaufman are fictional characters from the Bonanza episode,
“The Way of Aaron”. Friedrich Gould and his familly are my own inventions.
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