The Mountain Man

By Nancy (Ben & Adam)

And

Marion (Joe and Hoss)

(Joe)

Sometimes, if I gotta spend time thinking, I like to go visit my ma's grave on the edge of Lake Tahoe. Pa says sometimes a fella's just got to be alone. That doesn't happen much in the house, what with having two older brothers and Hop Sing, not to mention Pa. The house is small and I have to share a room with Hoss and Adam. I love my brothers, but sometimes I just can't stand to be around them.

People think it's easy being the youngest. I'm not complaining, lots of times Adam and Hoss feel sorry for me and they help do my chores and stuff, and they do fun things with me, like fishing and camping, and compared to my friends' brothers, they are nice to me. But it's hard being the youngest. No matter what I do, my brothers probably did it before me. I'm not as smart as Adam, and I'm not as strong as Hoss. And look at what they call me – Little Joe. Ma used to call me "mon petit Joseph," and I didn't much like it. 'Course, I didn't say nothing to her on accounta I had to be respectful. And now, I'd like her to call me just about anything, if only she was alive, not buried by the lake.

But my brothers call me Little Joe and I hate that. Then people in town heard them call me that and those people call me Little Joe. I don't say nothing but it's hard when your brothers are as big as mine are. My pa, too. They're real big men, and I don't expect I'll ever be as big as them. Pa says that when Hoss was my age, he was just about as big as Adam was, and he's four years younger than Adam.

So I asked Pa after I got done with morning chores if I could go for a ride to the Lake. He knows what I mean when I say that and he told me I could; just make sure I was home for lunch. He asked did I want company, but I didn't this time, and he understood. Pa's good like that. I think sometimes he visits Ma by himself, too. I saddled up Paint and I headed out.

I talked to Ma for a while, and even if she doesn't answer me with words, I think she answers me somehow, because I felt better. I leaned back against a tree and just enjoyed the spring wind. This last winter was long and I hated being cooped up in the house. I didn't think of anything except how good the air smelled and how blue the Lake was and how nice the birds' songs sounded. My mind started drifting away towards the stories Mr. Larsen's been telling.

Mr. Larsen used to be a mountain man. Adam says he still is, he just lives in town now. He's a big man, and sometimes he looks like a shaggy bear. Mr. Larsen, I mean, not Adam. Adam's big, but if he ever got shaggy looking, Pa'd make him get a haircut. Adam acts like he's all grown up, but if Pa gets on him to get a haircut, he gets one quick. 'Course, I don't remember the last time Pa had to tell him. Adam's funny about his looks. He's always makin' sure his clothes are clean and his hair's just right. Sometimes I think he oughta be a girl. But I got more sense than to tell him that.

Anyway, Mr. Larsen's been telling us some great stories. Us being some of the town boys and me. Mr. Larsen's lived in the mountains for a long time and he told us all about meeting Jim Bridger and Winnemuca and lots of famous mountain men. He's been to a rendezvous, which I reckon is a big party and trading meeting. He even met Kit Carson, claims he rode with him to California back before the war.

I was thinking back on these stories, wondering what it would be like to be the first white man to see the lake, when I heard something in the bushes behind me. I jumped, worried that it might be a bear, but it wasn't. It was a man I'd never seen before. He was riding a roan-colored horse, and he seemed glad to see me. He reined up and dismounted.

He was just about the shortest grown man I'd ever seen. I don't think he'd come up to Hoss's shoulders. I tried not to stare, but it was hard. He was dressed all in buckskin, like Big Dan wears, 'ceptin' he had more fringes on his jacket. His hair was longer than Pa would like, but it didn't come to his shoulders. He had a mustache and a big chin. But he looked real friendly and he held out his hand to shake mine.

I put my hand out, too, just like Pa taught me to do, and he shook it. He was real strong. He smiled at me when we let go.

"Hello, young fellow. Enjoying the lake?"

I nodded. "Yes, sir. We love coming up here."

He shaded his eyes as he looked around. "We?"

"Well, my brothers and my pa and me. But they aren't here right now, they're at home." I wished I could take the words back as soon as I said them. Pa's always telling me to be cautious around strangers and here I just told this man I was alone.

But he didn't say nothing. He nodded towards Ma's marker. "Are you visiting?"

"That's my ma." And before I knew what I was doing, I had told this stranger all about my family, about my brothers and how Pa had been married three times and how he had buried all of his wives. I don't know why I told him this, it just came out.

The man nodded. "Not easy for your pa, losing his wives like that. I know."

I looked at him funny, but he didn't say nothing more. Pa says not to ask about a man's past, especially here on accounta it's a new land and people might be trying to make a new life for themselves. I don't understand exactly what he means, but I didn't ask this man anything.

"Lad, do you know a Dan Larsen? A mountain man?"

I grinned. "Sure I do. He's down in Eagle Station right now. He's workin' for Mr. Devereaux in the livery."

"Eagle Station? I don't know the place. Could you tell me how to get there? Dan's an old friend and I'd like to say see him again."

I tried describing how to get to the road, but I could see the fella couldn't follow my directions, so I offered to show him how to get to the road. I told him I couldn't go with him into town, on accounta Pa doesn't let me go into town alone, and even if I was with him, Pa would still say I was alone, cuz he means I can't go to town without Pa or my brothers. The man just looked at me funny and said if I took him to the road, he'd be all set.

So I took him to the road, and he thanked me. I realized as he rode off that I had forgotten to ask his name, and he didn't ask mine. That's how it is out here sometimes, though. Names don't seem so important.

As I turned towards home, I looked up at the sun. Oh, golly, I was going to be late for lunch. I urged Paint to go faster, but I was careful not to race. Pa told me the next time he caught me racing, I wouldn't want to ride Paint for a week. I knew what he meant.

I rode into the yard. It was quiet, too quiet. No one was outside. Oh, golly, they must be inside already. I lead Paint to the barn, took off her saddle and gave her some water. I'd have to brush her down after lunch.

I ran towards the house and just before I reached the steps, I noticed the woodpile and my bottom prickled like it does when I'm in trouble. I had completely forgotten that Pa had asked me to cut wood when I was done with my morning chores. Only when Pa asks, he's not really asking, he's telling. Adam says if Pa has to actually tell, then I'm in trouble. I reckoned I was in trouble.

I quick washed my hands in the bucket, opened the door and took off my hat. I was right. Everyone was already inside and they were just sitting down. I slid into my seat just as Pa was about to say the blessing. Adam frowned at me. Hoss just shook his head. Hop Sing didn't say nothing but he didn't have to. I didn't look at Pa, but I could feel him looking at me.

(Ben)

I am a fortunate man in many ways, and one those ways is that I am able to judge whether a son is in trouble or not by the way he prays at the table.

Take Erik for example. When he is comfortable he rests his elbows on the table and leans his chin on top of his folded hands. When he’s uncomfortable he leans his elbows on the table, clinches his hands together, rests his chin on top of his hands, and frowns. Deeply.

Adam is subtler. He does not put his elbows on the table. He clasps his left hand over his right palm. And his face is devoid of expression. Adam’s discomfort is apparent in whether his back is relaxed or rigid.

Joseph is easier to read than the primers that await his attention on the desk. This day he was perfectly still. Joseph is only perfectly still when he is trying to avoid being noticed. And he only tries to avoid being noticed when he thinks he is in trouble. Usually when Joseph thinks he is in trouble, I agree.

My youngest son was studious about avoiding eye contact with me during the entire meal. He didn’t laugh at Hoss’ story about trying to move two cows where they hadn’t wanted to go. He didn’t "pshaww" in disbelief when Adam said that judging by the bend in the sapling pines the snow had gotten to twenty-four feet on the east ridge this winter. What was most suspicious was when Joe declined any peach cobbler and instead grabbed his light jacket and scampered out the front door.

I eased back in my chair, supported my left elbow on the chair arm, and rubbed at my chin with my right hand.

"He forgot to chop wood," Adam offered as explanation for his brother’s behavior. He raised his cup of tea and just before he sipped he said, "Again."

"I reckon" -Hoss came up from the peach cobbler for air- "he figured he was late for lunch." He widened his eyes. "But he wasn’t, Pa. He was here for the blessing."

By a hair’s breadth. Running to the table at the last possible moment was nothing new for Joseph. Neither, unfortunately, was forgetting chores.

"No," I said slowly. "That’s not it."

Adam looked at me. "Do you think he’s in real trouble?"

When I raised an eyebrow at the suggestion that not doing chores was not "real" trouble, Adam rolled his eyes toward Hoss. There is only one brother look that I can read and it is the roll of the eyes toward the other brother. It translates roughly into, "Why did you let me do that?"

Joseph had asked permission to go to the lake, which I knew meant that he wanted to sit by Marie’s grave and think. He’s doing more of that lately. Thinking, thank the saints. But he also needs more time alone. Sometimes a boy wants to get away from his brothers’ shadows, lean his back against a tree trunk, and experience the joy of just being.

And sometimes, I remembered with a smile, a boy needs to get away from his brothers and his father and indulge in pretending.

The day before at the livery, I had nearly walked into a litter of youngsters who were listening as Daniel recounted stories from his years of living in the mountains. I had leaned against the door frame and thought how much his memories of a land of unfathomable beauty and no trails reminded me of my years of sailing unfathomable waters with only the stars and sun to guide us. Joseph has heard most of my stories. But he has not heard many of Daniel’s.

Of all the boys who had sat or stood with mouths hanging open, Joseph had been the one painting the pictures in his mind. Joseph had been the one who would be able to describe everything that Daniel had seen. And Joseph had been the one who would, in his imagination, become a mountain man like Daniel. I had prayed that he wouldn’t try to trap Abigail or John Adams, or Zeke.

So today Joseph had gone to the lake. He had probably talked to Marie, trying to sort out the questions and confusion of a youngster his age. He had probably leaned back against a tree trunk, maybe even dozed in the welcome sunshine. But eventually Joseph would have given in to his imagination. He would have stood, thrust out his chest, lowered his voice and told everyone to follow him, he knew the old animal trail that led to the safety of the valley. I wondered who he had pretended to be and who he had pretended to meet and what he and his imaginary companions had pretended to do.

Hoss stood and laid his napkin beside a plate that was so clean it looked freshly washed. "I’ll help Joe make short work of that woodpile, Pa."

I turned my attention to Hoss but before I could speak, Adam pushed his chair from the table. "I’ll help you."

That was interesting. Both of them wanted to help Joe do a chore they all three loathed?

"That’s very kind of you," I said.

I watched Hoss and Adam quickly walk to he sideboard, put on their hats with their right hand and grab their jackets with their left hands – and they were out the door. I have never understood how they decide which one will open the door and which one will go first.

Hop Sing paused in gathering the plates and smiled knowingly at me. "All boys are eager to chop wood."

"Um hum," I agreed as I stood. "Which means something." I picked up my plate and Adam’s and then admitted, "I just don’t know what."

Leave it to Hop Sing to come up with a solution to the problem. He took the plates from my hand and observed, "It is very warm in house. Perhaps we should raise window?"

I grinned at him. "Probably get more breeze from the one on this side." I walked to the window on the left side of the chimney and slowly raised it. After all, I didn’t want to run the risk of breaking it. I also didn’t want to run the risk of being noticed, so I stood in front of the fireplace and enjoyed my second cup of tea.

At first there was only the "thwock" of the ax into the wood and the distinctive Joseph muttering and sighing with which he accompanies any tedious task. I heard Adam’s and Hoss’ boots on the porch, down the step, and then –

"Well, brother?" Adam’s voice was full of amusement.

Thwock.

"Well what?" Joe gave a deep groan and I could imagine him wiping his forehead on his shirtsleeve.

"You know," Adam said evenly. "Why were you late?"

" I wasn’t late," Joe countered in his feisty way. "I sat down before grace, didn’t I?"

"Just," Adam pointed out.

"Well if it’s any of your business" - Joe sounded put-upon but he also sounded like he had some interesting news - "I went up to the lake."

Adam and Hoss, too, go to the lake by themselves from time to time. We all know what that means.

"Oh," Adam and Hoss said in disappointed unison. I heard their steps as they ambled across the beaten ground between the house and the barn.

"And I met a mountain man," Joe said quickly.

The boot falls stopped.

"Ya what?" Hoss sounded as if Joe had claimed he had flown to the moon.

"I met a mountain man," Joe repeated.

It was bound to have happened, given Daniel’s stories and Joseph’s imagination.

"Do you want to clean the water troughs or the saddles, Hoss?" Judging from Adam’s muffled voice he had his back to Joe. Judging from the boot falls, Adam and Hoss were walking toward the barn.

"I reckon you enjoy getting wet more’n I do," Hoss ribbed Adam good-naturedly.

"I did!" Joe yelled in his pay-attention-to-me voice.

Hoss, of course, chose to tease. "Which one?"

"Which one what?" Joe asked. The ax went into a piece of wood but didn’t come out.

"You said you did," Hoss answered. "Did ya clean the saddles or the water troughs?"

"I met a mountain man!" Joe shouted all the louder.

"Right," Adam said patronizingly. "I’ll take the–"

"It was Jim Bridger," Joe said quickly. Then he added with no small amount of swagger, "His friends call him Gabe."

"Jim who?" Hoss queried.

"Joe," Adam stretched the word in that long-suffering tone that brothers develop as soon as they can talk. "Jim Bridger is nowhere near here."

"Is too! I was talking to him."

"Talkin’ to him?" Hoss was puzzled. "What’d he say?"

"Hoss-" Adam moaned. I could imagine him trying to grab Hoss by the elbow and Hoss shaking him off like a gnat.

"He asked how to get to town but he couldn’t figure out what I was sayin’ so I-"

"You didn’t take him to town." Adam’s concern deepened his voice. "Joe, do you have any idea what Pa will do to you if-"

"That’s why I didn’t." The superiority in Joe’s voice caused me to smile. That and the fact that he hadn’t disobeyed me.

"Why was he going to town?" Hoss asked.

"He was lookin’ for Big Dan."

Daniel?

"Why?" Hoss persisted.

"Him and Big Dan are friends from way back."

I knew if I looked out the window the ax head would be in the piece of wood, Joe would have his arms crossed on the handle as he leaned on it, Hoss and Adam would be standing with their hands on their hips and their coat hems pushed back, and they would be looking at Joe with a mixture of disbelief and curiosity.

I was a bit interested myself.

(Hoss)

I looked at Adam and I could tell he didn't believe Joe none. But I don't know, Joe looked real serious, like he does when he's tellin' something important. I tilted my head to one side to look at him again.

"Dang, Joe. Did he really tell you he was Jim Bridger?"

I could hear Adam stirring next to me.

"C'mon, brother, you don't really believe Little Joe, do you?"

I rolled my eyes. After this morning, Adam shoulda known better than to call Joe little. Dang, if Pa had seen Joe go after Adam this mornin', no way would Joe have wanted to ride to the lake or anywhere for that matter. Pa don't hold with us fighting, no matter what one of us says to the other. He says brothers have to stick together.

Sure enough, soon as Adam called him 'little Joe,' Joe dropped the ax and went after Adam loaded for bear. I was able to grab the scrapper before he actually got near Adam, but he was so quick that big brother actually jumped back.

I looked over at the house and saw the window was open. That was never a good thing. Sure as I'm standin' here, Pa was standin' at that window, listening. He'd tan us good for eavesdroppin' but I reckon we learned it from him.

I whispered quick in Joe's ear, "Look out, you're in enough trouble. If Pa catches you fighting Adam. . ."

Adam glared at me. "Trying to fight me, you mean! If I had behaved like this when I was his age, Pa would have. . ."

I tried to shush Adam, and I nodded my head toward the window. He took my meanin' and he shushed.

I saw Joe look over at the window, too, and all the fight went outta him. I let go of him. He leaned down to pick up the ax, then he looked over at Adam.

"Did too meet a mountain man."

Adam shrugged and leaned back to watch Joe work. "So, little brother, what did this mountain man look like?"

Honestly, if I didn't know Pa was at the window listening, I'd wipe that smirk off Adam's face. Adam was just going out of his way to rile Joe.

Joe just ignored him. I was torn. I couldn't decide was Adam right and Joe was making this up or was Joe right. I stuck my hands back in my pockets and was just about to lean against the tree when I heard the door open and boot steps crossing the porch.

"I thought you two were coming out to help Joseph."

I yanked my hands out of my pockets and turned to look at Pa. "Uh, yes, sir. We were just, ah. . ."

Adam jumped in real smooth. "We were just waiting for him to chop some more then we were going to stack it for him."

"I think there's enough for you to stack now. Joseph, come here for a minute, please."

Adam and I jumped to work. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Pa put his hands on his hips and tilt his head back to look at Joe. Joe was standing straight up with his hands behind his back. Pa was frownin' a little. I could hear him ask Joe, "Wasn't that wood supposed to be chopped this morning?"

Joe's sigh sounded like them zephyr winds we get sometimes. "Yes, Pa."

"When you asked for permission to go to the lake, you said your chores were done. Was that a lie?"

I couldn't look at Joe without Pa knowing I was eavesdropping, but I could picture him with wide-open eyes. And I could hear him answer, "Oh, no, sir!" Lying is a tanning offense, so I expect Joe threw in the sir, just to let Pa know he was serious. "I just forgot, Pa. Honest."

Even if I couldn't see him, I knew Pa was wincing. Pa always winces when Joe says honest, cuz usually that means Joe's hiding something. I was feeling kind of bad for my little brother. I expect he ran off to the lake on accounta Adam and I teased him an awful lot this morning. Most of the time he doesn't care, but lately he seems real touchy about being short. This morning we played that keep away game with Joe's hat. I was hoping Joe wouldn't tell Pa we were teasing him. Not because I was afraid of Pa, although I was sure we'd catch an earful, but I was feeling bad about teasing him. Joe, that is. We wouldn't tease Pa enough to make him stomp off. I mean, we can tease him and all, but Adam and me got enough sense not to tease too far with Pa. And he wouldn't stomp off if we did. He'd stomp us.

Adam and I finished stacking the wood that Joe had cut and then we headed to the barn. I didn't want to be anywhere near Pa and Joe if Pa decided Joe was lying about the wood. I quick glanced over my shoulder, but the two of them were still talkin'.

I looked over at Paint's stall. Sure enough, Joe'd been in such a hurry when he got home that he'd left Paint's tack just bunched up on the ground. I bent over to pick it up and I could hear Adam sighing behind me. I whirled on him. "You got a problem, Adam?"

"There you go, picking up after Joe again. He's never going to learn if you cover up his mistakes for him."

"Dang it, Adam. He's half a step from going over Pa's knee as it is. Sometimes I think you like to see him in trouble with Pa. Besides, I figured it's our fault that he ran off without finishing his chores this morning."

Adam held out a hand as he walked towards me. "Oh, no, no you don't. Don't you go blaming me for what happened this morning. Besides, if we had forgotten our chores, or lied about meeting a mountain man, or left a mess like this in the barn, we would have gotten a tanning. He knows better."

I couldn't believe my ears and I shook my head in disgust. "First off, he didn't tell Pa, so it's not lying to him. Second, how do you know Joe didn't meet someone?"

Adam gave me that superior look he has, like he's the only one in the family who's smart. "Joe met Jim Bridger? You can't seriously believe that Joe met a famous mountain man."

I knew what he was saying. He was saying if I believed Joe, then I must be dumb. Well, I'd had just about enough from my perfect older brother. I stepped towards him, my fists clenched.

"Sometimes, Adam, I just want to wipe that smug look offa your face."

He rolled his eyes as he held up one fist and beckoned me forward with the other. "Go ahead, try it. I dare you."

I was just about to throw a punch when I heard someone behind me.

"Do you two want to explain what is going on in here?"

I didn't have to turn to know how Pa was standin'. Hands on his hips, head tilted back, jaw grinding to the side. Adam and me turned to Pa, all smiles.

Adam answered first. "Nothing, Pa. We're just discussing. . ."

I could tell Pa didn't believe it, but I reckon he wasn't in the mood to hear one o' Adam's explanations. "Never mind. I want to talk to you both of you." Pa walked toward us with that finger pointin' at us, like he does when he's real angry. He holds that finger out like some people hold a gun, and I gotta say, sometimes it's just as scary.

Pa was riled about something. He leaned toward Adam. "I want you to leave Joseph alone. Seems to me you have forgotten you weren't born the size you are."

Adam shifted uncomfortably. "Did he tell. . ."

"Joseph didn't say anything." I hate it when Pa interrupts. That means he's real aggravated if he don't wait for us to explain. I stood real quiet, hopin' I'd get lucky and he'd forget I was there.

I'm never lucky. He turned that finger to me. "And you, I want you to stop playing that stupid game with your brother's hat."

I have more sense than Adam, and I just answered, "Yes, sir, Pa."

Pa started to turn, but stopped himself. "Hoss, I want you to hitch up the team. We're all going into town to get supplies."

Adam looked at Pa. "I'll saddle our horses, Pa."

Pa just tipped his head back and looked at Adam from the bottom of his eyes, like he does sometimes. "No. I think you two boys can ride in the wagon like your brother."

I laughed at the look on Adam's face. He sure hates bein' in the wagon when he could ride Beauty instead. I stopped when I realized that meant I had to sit in the back with Joe. Dang.

I think Pa hit every bump goin' into town just to be spiteful. Me and Joe flopped around on that board like a fish off the hook. When the road finally smoothed out enough so's a body could talk, I leaned over to Joe. "Hey, Joe, did you really meet a mountain man?" I glanced over my shoulder to make sure Adam wasn't listenin' but he and Pa were arguin' about the cattle.

Joe's smile split his face. "Uh huh. He was a real mountain man."

I whistled low. "Dang. I wish I coulda met him. What did he look like?"

Joe spent the rest of the trip into town tellin' me what the mountain man looked like, what he said, what he did. By the time he got done tellin' me about meetin' Gabe, I was so jealous I coulda spit. We both whispered real quiet so Mr. Perfect Adam didn't hear us talking.

Joe and me jumped outta the wagon when we reached the trading post. Well, we waited 'til Pa stopped the wagon; jumping outta the wagon when Pa's still driving it is like waving a red flag in front of a bull. We waited on the sidewalk to hear Pa's orders for the afternoon.

(Adam)

It was good to see someone besides my family or Hop Sing when we arrived in Eagle Station. We’d had a little too much togetherness the past few weeks. The extra work inherent in this time of year, combined with checking the logging operation and readying the cattle for sale, and not being able to get away from the ranch had stripped everyone’s patience to the skeleton.

We had argued over ridiculous issues. Joe had long ago resigned himself to the fact that he would be Little Joe just as Erik had decided there wasn’t much he could do about being called Hoss. But now Joe complained every time the word "little" passed my lips. And no matter how much Joe protested otherwise, he liked the attention Hoss gave him when Hoss snatched Joe’s hat. Our little brother enjoyed it all the more when I joined in because then he had both our attention.

I admit I was possibly at fault, too. Usually I savored Joe’s whoppers, but his latest tales had become more and more far-fetched. The story about meeting Jim Bridger was ridiculous and yet Hoss seemed to believe Joe. I intended to arm myself with facts and prove to Hoss that Joe was not telling the truth - and that Hoss needed once and for all to quit letting Joe influence him.

The last I had heard Jim Bridger had been near Salt Lake with a mapping expedition. And even though he’d led wagon trains before, the chance of him being anywhere near Eagle Station was unlikely. To satisfy my own conviction of that fact, I walked to the wagon yard near Shelby’s saloon and spoke with several of the travelers. Some of them had stopped at Fort Bridger, some of them had met the man, and some of them told whoppers that rivaled Joe’s. But finally everyone that I asked said that no, Bridger had not led their group into town.

Backed by the emigrants’ assurances, I set out to find Hoss. Not only was this latest story of Joe’s implausible, it was untrue. If I had told a lie like that at Joe’s age, I would not have been standing in front of the store sharing candy with Wendell like Joe was. I would not have been laughing and repeating the tall tale so loudly that half the territory could hear me. I would have been quietly standing by the wagon while my behind hurt from Pa’s reaction to deceit.

That was another thing. Joe’s lying had gone on long enough. Pa had been too lenient with Joe all of my little brother’s life. If Pa didn’t set the same standards for Joe that he had set for me then Joe was headed–

"What stung you?"

Hoss’ words brought me up short at the steps in front of the Orowitz’s store. He leaned against the side of the building and he, too, was munching on candy. Holding out the paper cone filled with horehound drops he offered, "Want one?"

He knew that I didn’t like candy. Well, not that kind. I shook my head and put a boot on the bottom step.

"What’s got you so all-fired upset?" he persisted.

I pointed to where Joe stood at the opposite end of the porch. "He’s lying."

Hoss’ eyes rounded and he gulped. Then he coughed. And when he’d cleared his throat he leaned toward me. "Adam, that ain’t a nice thing to say about a brother."

Throwing my arms into the air, I shouted, "It’s the truth!"

Hoss’ forehead wrinkled. "Well, what is it? A lie or the truth?"

"What?" I lowered my boot to the ground.

"One minute you’re saying Joe’s lying and the next minute you’re saying it’s the truth. You gotta make up your mind, Adam."

Sometimes I could swear that Hoss does that kind of thing on purpose. I think he enjoys confusing people and watching them try to find logic in the conversation. "He’s lying," I hissed.

"Who’s lying?" Pa asked as he stepped up beside me. His hat was shading his eyes.

Not being able to see Pa’s eyes always puts me at a disadvantage but that’s never stopped me. I told him that Joe was lying about seeing Jim Bridger and I supported my judgment by telling Pa the gist of the travelers' answers.

Pa listened and then he turned his head toward Joe and Wendell, who didn’t seem to know we were there, but he slid his eyes to me. "Adam, there’s a difference between a lie and a whopper," he said slowly.

"I know there is!" I decided to lower my voice. "And it’s time Joe learned the difference." I gave one quick, hard nod to emphasize my point.

Hoss stepped up beside me and bit his lower lip. "Adam," he said softly, "Joe’s known the difference for a while now."

"That’s my point!" I jabbed at Hoss’ chest. "He knows the difference and Pa won’t do anything about it."

Pa shifted and crossed his arms at his chest. "And just what do you think I should do about it . . . Adam?"

Somehow I had veered off course. I had intended to prove to Hoss that he should quit swallowing every morsel of bait that Joe dangled in front of him. I wasn’t quite sure how I’d made it into an issue of questioning Pa’s methods.

But as long as Pa had asked, I answered. "I think you should do what you did to Hoss and me when we lied."

Pa raised his chin and seemed to consider what I had said. "And how do I determine that he is lying?"

I slapped my gloves against the side of my right leg impatiently. "You do the same thing you did with Hoss and me – you have him look you in the eye."

That was when I saw Daniel walking toward us from the stable. "Mr. Larsen?" I called out and waved.

He held up his left hand in salute and smiled as he joined us. "Ben. Hoss. What can I do for ya Adam?"

I looked around him, caught Joe’s attention, and motioned for him to join us. Now we could settle this once and for all. I would catch Joe in the lie and teach Hoss a lesson that had been a long time coming. I stashed my gloves in my coat pocket and got ready to enjoy myself.

Joe skipped down the steps and then peered up at the man and smiled. "Hey, Mr. Larsen."

"Little Joe." Daniel nodded his head.

I straightened and delivered my first piece of evidence. "Joe told us that he met a mountain man up by the lake."

Now Daniel would confirm that there was no other mountain man around. Hoss wouldn’t be able to ignore what Daniel said. And neither would Pa.

Joe’s voice filled with excitement. "He said he was looking for you, Mr. Larsen."

Daniel’s answer was not exactly what I had hoped for. "I was wonderin' if that was you he met. Said he met a young fella vistin' his ma by the lake. Reckoned it had ta be you."

Joe turned his attention to me and raised an eyebrow exactly the way Pa does. His cocky attitude was soon dashed.

Daniel added, "But, I don’t know that he’s rightly a mountain man."

I looked up at Hoss and tried not to gloat.

Joe sought to save his hide. "But he was Jim Bridger and . . . Jim Bridger’s a mountain man," he maintained.

Daniel pulled back slightly. "He tell ya he was Bridger?"

"No," Joe said softly. He rolled his eyes around, something he always does when he’s considering a lie. "But I thought that’s who it was."

Daniel spoke slowly. "Bridger’s nowhere ‘round here."

I shot Hoss a look that said "See?" and his eyes filled with disappointment when they settled on Joe. There was no way Pa could say Joe had told a whopper. This had been a calculated lie. Pa put his hands on his hips and his jaw tensed.

"No," Daniel said again, sounding as if his thoughts were anywhere but in Eagle Station. "That wasn’t Old Gabe."

I beamed at Hoss, driving home the fact that I had, as usual, been right.

Daniel shrugged his broad shoulders, looked toward the mountains, and said, "The fella that you met up by the lake . . . that was Kit Carson."

Hoss rammed his elbow into my arm. Pa looked down and rubbed his right hand over his chin.

And Joe was very hard to live with for the next week.

The end