Author:  JC

Email:  bonanzaholic@yahoo.com

Rating: G

Summary: Strange things are afoot on the Ponderosa in these three after-dark vignettes

 

 

 

 

NIGHT TRILOGY

 

 

 

I.  A Midsummer Nightmare

 

'Twas the night before sometime

A few weeks ago

The Cartwrights were sleeping

At least Ben, Hoss and Joe

 

Poor Adam was tossing

And turning in bed

While visions of Laura

Whirled in his head

 

She was whining and moaning

She was all in a snit

She was nagging and droning

And pitching a fit

 

"Don't you love my new dress

And my big eyes of blue?

Adam, don't go to sleep

While I'm talking to you!

 

I don't care if you're tired

Or how hard you've been working

It's your duty to compliment me --

And you're shirking!

 

While we're on the subject...

 

The shutters need painting

The fences need mending

Peggy wants a new pony

And the garden needs tending

 

Someone's at the door --

Oh look, it's Aunt Lil!

She'll be staying six months

What's wrong, are you ill?

 

Well, I feel another one of my headaches coming on...

 

I'd like some more tea

Would you get me a cup?

Blah, blah, blah...are you listening?

Adam Cartwright! Wake up!"

 

He woke up in a sweat

His eyes wide with fright...

'Twas a dream.  "Praise the Lord…

She's NOT Mrs. Cartwright!"                          

 

 

 

II. The Uninvited

 

Saddle weary and bone tired, Hoss Cartwright tethered his horse outside the line shack. He’d been working since dawn rounding up strays and repairing the fence line on the eastern border of the Ponderosa and felt as though he could sleep for a week.  It didn’t matter where; he could sleep on the ground if had to. But the bunk sounded mighty fine.

 

He untied his saddlebag.  There was a can of beans in it, but for one of the few times in his life he was too tired even to eat. Sleep was the only thing on his mind.  He stopped at the door of the shack, pausing long enough to yawn and stretch, when a noise reached his ears. Someone was inside.

 

He put his hand on his gun but didn’t have time to draw before the door flew open.  

 

“Well, are ya comin’ in or ain’t ya?  I got supper all ready.”

 

Hoss let out an exasperated breath.  “Obie, what are in the world are you doin’ here?”

 

The old man smiled.  “Me and Walter decided to pay you a little visit,” he drawled. “It wuz his idea, actually.  He said he knew you’d be comin’ this way, even figgered when you’d be here.”

 

Hoss raised his eyebrows.  “Walter did that?”

 

 “Yeah, ain’t he a caution?”  Obie glanced affectionately at the dog.  “Just look how glad he is to see ya.”

 

Walter lay sprawled on the bunk, eyes half-closed, limp as a rag doll.  Hoss frowned. “Listen, Obie, it’s not like I ain’t glad to see you, but I gotta be honest. I gotta get some sleep!”

 

“Well, the way I figger it, a man’s gotta eat.”  Obie dished out a heaping plate of beans and set it on the table.  “Me and Walter fixed your favorite, just the way you like ‘em.”

 

Hoss swallowed hard, beads of perspiration forming on his forehead at the mere memory.  “Spicy?”

 

“Yep.”  Obie fixed himself a plate and sat down across from Hoss.  “When you’re done eatin’ I’ll set up the checkerboard.  Walter said he’ll play the winner.”

 

“I didn’t know Walter played checkers,” said Hoss skeptically.  “How come he didn’t play with us last time?”

 

“Aw, he didn’t want to embarrass ya, you bein’ comp’ny and all.”  Obie leaned back in his chair.  “Truth is, checkers is his favorite game.  See how excited he is?  He cain’t hardly wait.”

 

Hoss frowned at Walter, whose only movement was to close his eyes completely.  He shook his head and looked back at Obie.  “Is he any good?”

 

Obie nodded.  “Beats me two outta three.”  He puffed on his pipe. “Ain’t he a caution?”

 

Hoss sighed.  He knew he was no match for Obie and Walter in checkers or anything else.  “How ‘bout pourin’ me some that scaldin’ hot coffee of yours?  I figger I’m gonna need it.”

 

Yep. It was gonna be a long night.

 

 

 

III. The Haunting of Joe Cartwright

 

Darkness falls, as silent as a stone. The stars burn bright and cold; there is no warmth in the moon’s silver glow. My breath hangs in the air like an eerie apparition. How fitting. It is indeed a night for ghosts, for even in my solitude I know I am not alone.

 

Many things can haunt a man, mistakes for things he has done, regrets for things left undone, but nothing like a woman and love gone astray.  She is with me always, wherever I go, waking or sleeping, wherever I turn, I see her face, her eyes, her lips, her smile.  Her arms reach for me, teasing, beckoning, pleading with me to come away and forget all and everyone I knew before her. It almost happened. Somewhere in time, enchantment became obsession and then right became wrong.

 

There were those who saw what I could not, but their warnings fell on deaf ears.  The spell of her kiss was strong and I an eager and willing subject, and so I happily offered myself as a sacrifice on her moonlit rock of love.  A wolf howled in the distance, and that’s when things got a little hazy. I woke up later in a cold sweat on a pile of chicken feathers after dreaming I was kissing a fish.  I’ve been a red meat man ever since.

 

I also earned a valuable lesson that night. Never give a gypsy woman the combination to your family’s safe, now matter how oddly attractive she is.  She almost got away with everything. 

 

I shiver, and not just from the chill memory.  That darn Tirza took my green jacket.  

 

 

***THE END***

 

 

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