A Day in the Life
(A
Bonanza of a Tale, Part 2)
By JC
The story continues, along with another thirty-one
hidden episodes just for fun.
His brothers stared as
Hoss Cartwright proceeded to polish off his fourth plate of hotcakes. “I swear, Hoss,” said Little Joe. “I thought you said you’d never eat those
again after the flapjack contest.”
“Well, that was a month
ago. I’ve got my appetite back since
then. Besides, the ride last night left
me ‘bout half-starved. I was so hungry I
would’ve eaten cheese.”
“Well, I hope you’ve just
about gotten your fill, because we need to get going.” Adam checked the time on his pocket watch,
the gift from the stranger he pulled from the river on the Truckee Strip last
spring. The rescue was nothing out of
the ordinary; he and his family were accustomed to playing the role of the Good Samaritan. In fact, all the folks on the Comstock knew
they could depend on the friendship and goodwill of the Ponderosa in times of
trouble. It was the legacy of Ben
Cartwright, who raised his boys to lend a hand.
“Virtue is its own reward,” he always said. Still, gold was nice too, Adam thought as he
buffed the watch on his shirt. He put it
away quickly before Joe and Hoss could get their greasy fingerprints on
it. They were always pretending to be
interested in the time, but Adam knew they were just jealous because no one had
ever given them a gold watch with a “nekkid” lady on it.
As usual, Hoss wound up
with the short match so he got stuck with the bill. Joe tipped their saucy
waitress with a kiss before tossing her a silver dollar along with his best
twinkly-eyed grin. Adam waited for them
on the sidewalk, surveying the street.
“Where to now, Adam?”
asked Hoss. “Sheriff?”
Adam scratched his neck,
his eyes narrowing. “Barber.”
The barber was a pleasant
faced man named Sam Hill. Talkative,
too. Adam figured a shave and a haircut
and thirty minutes with this guy would be well worth fifty cents. “Just a little off the top,” he told
him. He intended to avoid a repeat of
the last haircut he got, which made his forehead look too high.
“Whatever you say, Mister. You folks in town for the hangin’s?”
“Actually, no,” said Adam.
“We’re looking for someone. A tall man,
slightly gray, probably in his late forties.
Figured maybe he came through here; maybe you’ve seen him.”
“Well, that ain’t much to
go on. That description could fit any
number of people. Is there anything else
about him?”
“Yeah, he’s got a
birthmark on his cheek,” said Hoss, “shaped sorta like a triangle.”
“Why didn’t you say so
right off? That’s the kind of thing I
would remember. Of course, faces are
what I see mostly in this business. A
person could be a little man, ten feet tall,
bow-legged or have feet of clay, but I’m more apt to notice his nose or a mole
on his chin. A stranger passed this
way a couple weeks ago, had a little
scar above his lip, where a guitar string snapped him when it broke. Couldn’t grow a decent moustache because of
it. I reckon a barber sees things other
people don’t.”
“Did you see the man we’re
looking for or not?” Joe frowned.
“Nope. But there was this other fella came through
who was once a doctor, had a big goiter on his….”
A few minutes later, the
brothers stepped back outside. Joe shook
his head as if to clear it. “My ears are
still ringin’. I didn’t think that guy
was ever gonna shut up. Hoss, how in the world could you sleep through all that
chin waggin’?”
“Huh?” Hoss looked puzzled for a moment before
removing a small wad of paper from each of his ears. “What’d you say, Little Joe?”
“Forget it,” said
Adam. He put his hands on his hips and
took a deep breath. Ah, he loved the
smell of bay rum in the morning. “Let’s
go talk to the law.”
The tin badge on his vest identified the man behind
the desk as the sheriff. “What can I do
for you, gentlemen?” His manner was
courteous as he eyed them warily, rising to a height of well over six
feet.
Adam was quick to assure
him. “We’re not here to cause trouble.
We’re looking for someone.” He
then explained the reason for the quest that had led them there.
“I’ve got my hands pretty
full here with three hangings today, plus the trail gang that arrived last
night. I understand your situation, but
I sure hope this is not some sort of vendetta.
There’s desert justice and there’s the law. I hope you know the difference. I’d hate to have to arrest you boys.”
“We have every intention
of operating within the law,” said Adam.
“We’re not the gunmen you think we are.”
He had read the sheriff’s assessment of them immediately.
“Well, I’m glad to hear
that.” He turned back to his desk. “Now, I’m not saying I’ve seen this fella,
but if he likes cards as much as you say, you ought to go talk to the Colonel.
He’s the faro dealer over at The Last Viking. Maybe he can help you. But I just want to remind you, if it comes to
a showdown, you’d better be in the right.
I’m not the lawmaker, just
the defender. I take my job
seriously.” He tapped the star on his
chest. “This is no badge without honor,
and I’m honor-bound to do my duty according to the law.”
“Understood,” said
Adam. “As I said, you’ll get no trouble
from us.”
The sheriff seemed
satisfied. “Good luck, then.”
“Uh, where is The Last
Viking, anyway? I didn’t see it on the
way in,” said Adam.
“South side, off the main
street behind The Spitfire Grill.
Doesn’t look much like a saloon. Used to be a bed and breakfast called The
Lonely House. The sisters who ran it
decided a different line of work would be more profitable.”
“What’s that?” asked Joe,
his interest piquing as it always did at the mention of persons of the female
persuasion.
The sheriff only
grinned. “Just tell ‘em I said hello.”
“Spitfire Grill? They got good eats?” asked Hoss, who was
beginning to get powerful hungry after his single breakfast of carbs.
“Sure. But you ought to try that new Tex-Mex
restaurant, El Toro Grande. Rosita’s
Gorditas will make you think you’ve died and gone to heaven.”
Hoss licked his lips. Joe sighed wistfully. Adam rolled his eyes at them yet again. They were only his half brothers, but
brothers nonetheless, he reminded himself.
“Let’s go,” he grumbled.
“Adam, what time is it?”
asked Joe.
“Shut up and ride.”
****end****
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