The Return Of Will Masters By Becky S. Adam's eyes were squinched nearly shut, but still black with rage. "Will Masters is what happened. It's my own damn fault; I should know better by now!" A few feathers floated loose from what appeared to be a bullwhip draped around his neck, and landed gently on the scuffed left toe of his brand-new boots. "It's that Shakespeare feller agin, ain't it." "If only. . . ! Look at this!" He shook his vest. Hoss poked at the little brown wormy-looking things stuck to the shredded black leather. One fell into his hand, and he sniffed it. "That’s them noodles Hop Sing likes." He nibbled carefully. "Cain't see why, though. They're crunchy enough, but sure don't taste like much." Adam emitted a strange growling noise. "You feelin' all right?" Hoss asked. "You're lookin' a mite flushed." He felt Adam's forehead then recoiled immediately, wiping his hand on his trousers and leaving a red stain behind. “Echhhh!!!” "Lip rouge." Adam's strangled words didn’t help with Hoss’ confusion, so he tried, "Stage makeup." Enlightenment dawned. "You're puttin' on a play!" He frowned. "I thought you wasn't gonna do nothin' like that with him again after you ended up in the loft with all them church ladies chasin' you—" Adam’s steely voice interrupted him. “We agreed not to mention that . . . event . . . again.” Hoss ignored him. “But you ain’t got a yaller dress on this time, so why’re you wearin’ one o’ them feather boa things?” “It’s NOT a feather boa!” Adam said forcefully, tugging at it. “I’m a bullfighter in Will’s half-baked, misbegotten, rewritten version of Don Quixote. He made the bull out of sawhorses and pillows and—” He finally got the whip unwound from his neck, but it tangled on the butt of his pistol. Enraged, he flung both to the floor. “—those aren’t Chinese noodles, they’re fake worms – I’m a DEAD bullfighter!” “Don who?” asked Hoss absently, plucking another noodle from Adam’s vest and popping it into his mouth. “Never mind,” Adam sighed. “Just get me inside without Pa or—” he shuddered “—Joe seeing me.” Hoss raised one eyebrow. “Y’know, Joe’s been gettin’ what-for ‘cause he’s been such a trial lately. If that boy sees you, he’s gonna drag you to Pa—” Adam groaned. “I’ll never live it down . . .” Hoss patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, I got it figgered. We’ll clean up your face,” his bandanna swiped twice, then whisked a few last feathers from his brother’s hair, “get rid o’ these noodles,” he scraped them off, tucking most into his pocket and munching the rest, “an’ put you back together a mite,” he dropped the pistol back in Adam’s holster and hung the wound-up bullwhip over the gun-butt. “Then—” Hoss neatly cold-cocked his brother and hefted his unconscious body over his shoulder, “we’ll just tell Pa you was bushwhacked.” And he set off for the house, singing a jaunty tune. THE END So there! Will Masters’ first appearance is in “The Tangled Web,” on the Bonanza Fanfic Writers’ Roundup, in the Chain Story section. For those who are interested, here’s the list of challenge items that had to be included: red lip rouge, feathers, a bullwhip, at least two Cartwrights (and one has to sing), Chinese noodles, a pistol, and a new pair of boots. |
