Smoke Gets In Your Ice

By Texas2002

Rating: G

This story follows "The Mice Will Play"

Author’s notes:

In the mid 1820s, Englishman John Walker invented the first friction matches. Samuel Jones marketed them, calling them "Lucifers". They became popular among smokers but had a bad burning odor.

What we know as "ice cream" was called "iced cream" in the Cartwrights’ days. It was one of George Washington’s favorite desserts and Dolly Madison served it while she was First Lady.

Little Joe Cartwright sighed in disgust and looked up from his game of checkers with Pa. He couldn’t concentrate and Pa was shellacking him good.

It was all Adam’s fault. If he weren’t sitting there on the other side of the table, sketching, making notes, flipping through a book on his right and picking up and reading and re-reading a newspaper on his left then Little Joe would stand a chance against Pa. But as it was Adam was just too darn distracting.

"Hey, Adam?" Hoss asked quietly as he sat beside their brother, his arms folded on the table, his gentle eyes scanning the sketches. "You gonna tell us what you’re doing yet?"

"Um?" Adam looked up with that dreamy, half-lost look in his eyes and Little Joe moaned. That could only mean one thing: Adam was thinking up a project.

"Crown me," Pa instructed.

Adam blinked. "Do what, Pa?"

"You." Pa pointed at Little Joe with a bemused look on his face.

Hoss whistled when he saw the number of Little Joe’s red checkers by Pa’s elbow. "Gosh dang! Pa’s beatin’ the stuffin’ out of you, little brother."

"Well, he’s lost so many games I didn’t want ‘im to start feelin’ bad," Little Joe muttered, knowing full well Pa had let him win all those other games.

Pa rolled his tongue across his teeth and then said, "That’s very kind of you, son."

Little Joe crowned the latest checker to come to his edge of the board. "Ain’t no sense in playing anymore."

"There isn’t any sense in playing," Adam corrected without looking up.

"Adam says I’m right." Little Joe tossed his head back.

"Adam," Pa said to his eldest son. When he didn’t get a response he repeated the name slowly. "Ad-am."

This time their brother looked up.

Pa waved his left hand toward the checkerboard.

Without even a study of the game, Adam stuck the pencil crossways in his mouth to hold it, reached across the table, took one of Little Joe’s checkers and performed a triple jump – each over a crowned piece of Pa’s. He picked up the checkers, dropped them by Little Joe’s left hand, took the pencil from his mouth and went back to drawing.

Hoss slapped Adam on the back as he laughed. At the far end of the table Hop Sing’s lips curved up ever so slightly. Even Pa was grinning at Little Joe.

Little Joe’s hand pointed across the table. "How’m I suppose ta pay attention when Adam’s making all that noise over there?"

Adam looked up. "Your problem isn’t me – your problem is you."

"Well, I gotta admit I’m a might curious about what you’re doing there, too," Hoss replied.

Pa smacked his checker into a double jump and then squinted at his youngest son through his pipe smoke.

"I ain’t playin’ anymore, " Little Joe announced, folding his arms across his chest.

Adam shook his head at his brother’s grammar. "You’re not playing anymore."

The boy leaned his hands on the table edge. "Ain’t is a word."

Adam looked him in the eyes and, to make a point, said, "No, little brother, it ain’t."

That word sure did sound strange coming from Adam. Why was that?

Hoss motioned toward the drawing pad under Adam’s right hand. "So what’re you workin’ on?"

Adam shrugged. "An ice house."

Little Joe started to say something mocking but Pa cut him off. "An ice house?"

Adam glanced around the table. "I was thinking we could build one."

"What d’ya do with it?" Little Joe asked.

Hoss laughed. "Ya keep ice in it."

Keep ice. That was just about the dumbest thing he’d heard. By the end of winter they were more than ready for the ice to disappear.

Pa propped his elbow on the arm of his chair and rubbed his chin. "If you build shelves, it can be a nice place to keep milk, even vegetables. But the best thing is you can cut the ice out of the pond in the winter and store it through the summer."

"But what do you DO with it?" Little Joe persisted. "With the ice."

Hoss and Adam exchanged longing looks. "Iced cream."

Little Joe frowned. "What?"

"Don’t you remember?" Hoss asked, staring happily into the space between Pa and Little Joe. "Sometimes Ma’d shave chocolate into it and it was the best stuff you ever ate."

Pa, Adam and Hoss groaned and Little Joe made an exasperated face.

"So you’re gonna build this whole building just so you can have this iced cream stuff?"

"Let’s see it." Pa sounded as if they might start work on the dumb building any minute.

Adam turned the pad toward Hoss and Pa, his own impatience barely held in check. "The one I’ve been reading about in Virginia is eighteen feet deep –"

"Eighteen –" Hoss burst out.

"That’s three of Pa!" Little Joe shouted.

Pa sat back in his chair and smiled in delight. "That was very good math, Joseph."

Adam held up his left hand. "Ours doesn’t need to be that deep. For one thing our winter comes sooner and our spring is later. And we aren’t going to be putting up the amount of ice this one holds. This is for a plantation."

They weren’t making any sense. One minute they were talking about ice and the next minute they were talking about plants. "What kinda plant?" Little Joe asked as he propped his elbows on the table for support.

Adam raised his blue eyes begrudgingly from the sketchpad. "Plantation."

"What’s that?"

"Large farms," Pa said. "You saw them when we left New Orleans."

"At this plantation," Adam paused to point at the book, "they have a blacksmith shop, make their own clothing, have a school, grow all their own crops, have their own doctor, and men who make just about everything from shoes to saddles –"

Little Joe stretched even farther. "Damnation, they must have a big family!"

Hoss shut his eyes tight and Adam squinted. Little Joe wasn’t sure what they did after that because he closed his eyes. Why’d he say that word? He’d never said it before on account of he knew it was -

"Joseph." Pa’s voice was low.

All his insides tensed up as Little Joe slid off the table and stood.

His throat too tight to answer and, trying to control a sudden fit of hiccoughs, Little Joe did as he’d been taught and looked Pa in the eyes.

Pa picked up his cup of tea in his right hand and held it out in offering while the left side of his mouth twitched. Little Joe took the cup slowly, grateful Pa continued to hold it cause he was real shaky. When he took his first swallow, he choked in spite of himself and quickly put his left hand to his lips trying not to spew the liquid everywhere. But a hiccough got him, and he couldn’t swallow, and he choked again and this time his cough sent tea flying all over the front of Pa.

Pa jerked his arms up, still holding the tea mug in his right hand, and looked down in surprise at the wet spot spreading along the lower part of his shirt and the upper part of his pants. Smoke went into a barking fit that sent Abigail and John Adams flying to the top of the hutch.

Adam snickered first, setting off Hoss. They giggled and then snorted. Adam lowered his head to the table and his shoulders shook so violently that the checkers rattled off their squares. Hoss quickly stood and walked away. He seemed to be having trouble breathing.

Ignoring Adam and Hoss, Pa put his mug down and crooked his index finger for Little Joe to come closer.

Oh gee he was in so much trouble. His butt prickled and his hands seemed to have a mind of their own so he clasped them behind his back where Pa couldn’t see them. His butt felt a little better for his hands’ protection.

Pa gave him a curious look and then spoke as calmly as if he were discussing something when he tucked Little Joe into bed. "There are better words. The next time you use that one, I promise you a tanning."

Since Pa was known for keeping his promises, Little Joe nodded and said, "Yes –hic – sir, Pa."

"Now about the plantations," Pa said. "The families don’t dig their ice houses. They have slaves to do the work."

"Oh," Little Joe managed before he hiccoughed again.

Pa thanked Hoss when he stepped forward with a rag for Pa to dab at his damp clothes and then motioned toward Adam’s sketches. "Tell us about the ice house."

He sounded as if nothing bad had ever happened and even put his left hand to Little Joe’s back.

"Maybe," Pa continued, "Angus will help us build this and then we can help him with something at his place."

Hoss grinned at his older brother who was quickly wiping at his eyes in an effort to collect himself. "Yeah, Adam, just think of iced cream in the middle of July." He gave Adam a wink. "And it’d be a good place to hang your drawers, too, so you’d be pulling on nice cool ones of a hot morning."

Little Joe hooted. "Who wears drawers in summer?"

Adam and Hoss’ eyes met and they looked like they were gonna start laughing all over again.

Pa’s brows rose. "I believe that’s a personal question, don’t you, son?"

Joe wanted to trudge off - embarrassed that he’d let them know he no longer wore drawers in the summer and sure they’d remember it and pull some joke on him as soon as the weather got warm again next year - but Pa patted his back. "Let’s hear about the ice house," he suggested. Then he motioned for Little Joe to lean down close. He cupped his right hand over Joe’s ear. "I won’t be hanging my drawers in the ice house, either," he whispered.

Little Joe smiled until his cheeks felt like they would crack.

Adam was eager to talk to Mr. McNally about the ice house so after chores the next day, Little Joe rode with his eldest brother to the McNally’s.

When they arrived in front of the fenced-in home, Adam gave Little Joe one of his "think about it" looks that Little Joe figured was supposed to keep him out of trouble and then the two brothers went their separate ways – Adam toward the house with Mr. McNally and his plans; Little Joe toward a honey tree with Sean and Aidan.

Little Joe and Hoss had found a few beehives from time to time. Hoss avoided them even though he loved honey like no one Little Joe had ever seen. If there was one critter on earth that Hoss didn’t get along with it was a bee. Little Joe, on the other hand, had never had any problems with them. He didn’t this time either and soon all three of them were enjoying the product of the bees’ hard work. Given how cold it was getting some nights, Little Joe was kind of surprised the bees were still around.

After that they played crack the whip but it wasn’t much fun with only three guys. You couldn’t get as much power going as when you rounded up a bunch of friends in town. Little Joe thought about getting Adam and Mr. McNally but Aidan and Sean didn’t like that idea.

By then Sean and Aidan had come up with a plan.

"Did ya bring yer pipe?" Sean asked.

Little Joe rolled his eyes. "I don’t have one."

"What d’ya mean ya don’t have one?" Aidan asked suspiciously.

"What I said."

"Why not?"

There was no way he was going to say "Pa won’t let me have one" so he just kept his mouth shut and looked defiant.

"Never mind," Sean said and slapped Little Joe on the back. "We have spare makings."

Spare makings? Little Joe’s curiosity got the better of him and he walked with the brothers to a tree overlooking the pond behind the house. Pieces of board were nailed flush to the trunk and hanging from the tree was a swing like the one in front of his house.

Aidan was the first to put a foot on one of the pieces of board and start climbing up, using the slats as a crude ladder. Sean gave Little Joe a puzzled look and went next.

"You coming?" Aidan called from up in the tree.

Little Joe felt his breathing change and his palms sweat. He flexed his knees. Climbing the honey tree had been one thing; it was short. This one was tall, too tall as far as Little Joe was concerned. But he didn’t want them to think he was afraid so he started for the boards nailed into the tree. He made it to the third one before he slipped slightly and hugged the tree with everything he had in him. He couldn’t do this.

Instead, he eased back down to the ground and told them he had to go pee.

When he returned to the tree, Sean and Aidan looked down at him from a platform on a thick branch. "Grab ahold of the swing and we’ll pull ya up," Sean said.

Little Joe wrapped his legs and hands around the rope and looked down so they wouldn’t see his closed eyes. He could feel the shaking begin inside him and then spread to his limbs as he sensed he was going higher and higher. He opened his eyes just in time – he was at the platform.

Sean and Aidan each took an arm and Little Joe climbed to them then sat far away from the edge with his back against the tree trunk, still trembling inside. His hair was sticking to his forehead and he could barely get his breathing under control.

"Sure hope Pa didn’t see ya," Sean whispered.

"He doesn’t know about this?" Little Joe asked.

Aidan motioned to the platform. "Sure, he helped us build this." Then he smiled and held up a beaten old metal box. "But he doesn’t know about this."

He opened the box and set to work. Little Joe’s fear of heights was forgotten as he watched the brothers. They first produced a cut corncob that had been mostly scooped out. Then they stuck a thick, hollowed out vine into a hole in the side of the corncob piece and trimmed its length. That done they passed the pipe to Little Joe and he admired it from every angle.

"Now for some fun," Sean announced. He pulled a small muslin sack from the box and pinched out loose tobacco like Pa put in his wooden pipe. They tamped it down in the pipes and smiled.

Bowls filled, Sean was the first to light a Lucifer stick on the platform and get his tobacco burning. Little Joe didn’t know which smelled worse – the Lucifer or the tobacco. Sean sat back, puffing contentedly, as Aidan lit his pipe. He passed the lighting sticks to Little Joe.

He was a quick study. He’d not only watched Pa light his pipe – though usually with a slim piece of wood from the fireplace – but he’d kept a close eye on Sean and Aidan. He could do this.

Little Joe struck the Lucifer on the platform but held it too straight and darn near burned his fingers. He dropped the thing and then had to stand and step on it to put it out. It smelled to high heaven and his stomach rolled. He sat down and lit another stick, this time getting it to the tobacco. His experience with a cigar had made him think he was ready for anything.

He wasn’t.

This tobacco was completely different and he burned his tongue because he didn’t know much about pipes. Any other time he would have cried out. But he couldn’t do it here. Aidan and Sean would think he was just like a girl. And, besides, Mr. McNally might hear them. So he pretended to like the pipe even though between the smells of the Lucifer, the tobacco and the fact that he was up high he was feeling worse than he had in a long, long time.

At last Sean and Aidan finished their pipes. Trying to sound normal as he talked, although his tongue was swollen and hurting, Little Joe dumped out the tobacco and stuck the pipe in his jacket pocket. The McNally boys climbed down their ladder but Little Joe knew he couldn’t do that on a good day, much less now. Instead, he grabbed the rope and slid down, getting a rope burn on his right hand in the process.

He’d about had all the fun he could take for one day and was never so glad to hear Adam call for him that it was time to go home.

Joe managed to get by without saying much until, at the dinner table, Pa looked at him and asked him to offer the blessing.

"I hurd ma tongue," Little Joe said. And just like he had known they would, all eyes shot to him.

Pa rested his elbows on the tabletop; hands clasped, and tilted his head. "You hurt your tongue?"

Little Joe nodded. "Bid id."

"I think he said he bit it," Hoss offered in translation.

Pa was sympathetic. He looked toward the end of the table. "Maybe Hop Sing has something for it, too."

"Id be fi," Joe assured. The last thing he wanted was some kind of medicine.

Pa seemed satisfied. "Hoss would you say the blessing, please?"

While Hoss offered up the prayer, Little Joe said one of his own hoping God wouldn’t be too mad at him for lying about how he’d hurt his tongue. He also asked God not to let Pa find out he’d just told a lie because, truth told, he was more worried about Pa than God.

"What did Angus think of your plans?" Pa passed one of the food platters toward Adam.

"Turns out he built an icehouse in St. Louis. " Adam took slices of venison and passed the platter on to Hop Sing.

Pa laughed and put a potato on Joe’s plate. He paused, studying Little Joe long enough to make him uncomfortable but then turned his attention back to the conversation.

"He had a good suggestion, Pa. He put straw between the roof and the ceiling the second year and he said it kept the ice from melting as quickly." Adam accepted the potatoes.

"Adam said Mr. McNally’s got another idea." Hoss cut his two potatoes and slathered them with butter.

Pa looked up and motioned for Joe to take some venison.

"Nod hungy," Joe protested.

"You’ll eat something when it cools or you’ll be waking up hungry." Pa didn’t wait for argument. "What’s Angus’ other idea?" he asked no one in particular.

Adam explained the plan included building on a slope that would help drain the water the melting ice would produce. "Angus said we should plant some fruit trees there. They’d get a slow amount of constant water."

Hoss swallowed his coffee. "We figured you’d be the best one to tell us what to plant, Hop Sing," he said. "Knowing plants the way you do, an’ all."

"Already have wild plum and berries. Maybe Mrs. Greene help us with apple trees?" Hop Sing said.

"Um," Hoss said with that dreamy look again. "Fresh apple pie with iced cream."

Adam laughed and shook his head.

"When do we start work?" Pa asked, frowning when he noticed Little Joe still hadn’t taken any venison. He motioned again and Little Joe obeyed.

"Hod ta shew," Little Joe muttered.

"Cut it into small pieces," Pa ordered.

Joe didn’t push the matter. The problem was his stomach was still queasy from smoking the tobacco and he was afraid he’d start throwing up if he ate. And if that happened Hop Sing would give him some horrible tasting medicine to settle his stomach when it would have been all right if he just hadn’t eaten.

Adam dabbed his napkin at the corner of his mouth and then answered Pa. "Angus said he could come over day after tomorrow. He’s bringing Aidan and Sean because Molly and Mrs. McNally are going to town."

Day after tomorrow. Gee, Little Joe sure hoped his tongue healed fast because Aidan and Sean would want to smoke pipes again when they could get off by themselves.

Shoot! That meant he needed to get some tobacco of his own. How was he going to do that? He could ride into town and buy just a little from the Orowitz’: they’d just think it was for Pa.

No, that wouldn’t work. Little Joe wasn’t about to go to town without permission again. The memory of that last spanking Pa had given him, and the days it had taken to sit without hurting, had been keeping him out of all kinds of trouble.

His eyes drifted from his dinner plate, where his food was still cooling, to the brass container Pa kept his tobacco in on the hutch. It wouldn’t take much tobacco to fill his pipe and Pa would never miss it. Sometime between now and the day after tomorrow he’d just sneak over there and pinch a little out of it. What could be easier?

Robbing a bank, for one.

Little Joe had never known anything like it. All day the next day, every time he thought the house was empty, he tip-toed in to get a little of the tobacco and a door opened and someone came walking in like they owned the place. Usually it was Pa and, come to think of it, he did own the place.

The first couple of times Pa just gave Little Joe a quick smile and went about his business. But after he came across Little Joe in the house half a dozen times in a row he asked if there was something he could help with.

Little Joe looked around and, needing a quick lie, said he was just wondering if they had any books that had poems in them. Since his tongue was still healing his question sounded more like he was asking for a "boog abow powm".

Pa’s brow wrinkled and he mouthed Little Joe’s words. "It sounded like you asked for a book of poems."

His chestnut hair flopped slightly as Little Joe nodded.

Pa leaned from the waist and tilted his head - as disbelieving as if Little Joe had just told him he’d discovered gold in the chicken coop. "Poems?"

Little Joe nodded again. One good thing about this tongue problem – you didn’t have to talk much.

Pa pushed back his hat and gave Little Joe a doubtful look. "What kind of poems?"

"Pi-rez."

Pa licked his lips and mouthed the word but didn’t understand that one.

"Pi-rez," Little Joe repeated. When he was sure Pa didn’t understand, he picked up Adam’s pencil from the desk and wrote "pirats" on the back of the sketchpad.

Pa laughed. "I don’t remember any, but Adam might." He fetched a mug and poured a cup of coffee.

"You know pi-rez?" Little Joe asked.

"Do I know any pirates?" he asked and when Little Joe nodded he laughed again, his broad shoulders shaking. "Yeah, I know some men I’d consider pirates."

Little Joe threw his arms in the air. "Real pi-rez."

Pa eased into a chair by the fireplace and crossed his legs at the ankles. "My father fought alongside some privateers against the British when I was young and there were pirates when I was sailing." He sipped his coffee. "But, no, I never met any men I knew to be pirates."

Little Joe wondered if his disappointment showed. It must have because Pa added, "Joseph, I’m just as glad I didn’t. A lot of men who met pirates at sea didn’t live to tell about it."

He hadn’t thought about that. Sure when he and the guys played pirates they pretended to stab each other and run swords through each other and walk the plank. But here sat Pa, a man who’d been at sea, telling him those things really happened out there. He stepped to the settee and asked. "Dey jot dem?"

Pa laughed and ran his hand through his hair. "Lord, I hope your tongue gets better fast. Yes, they shot them."

"Did you?" he said and blinked. His tongue was getting better? Did Pa have that kind of power?

"I told you, I never fought pirates, Joe."

"Bud – bud you ad to know how."

"I had to know how to do what?" Pa frowned.

"Shoot pitalz."

"Yes, I had to know how to shoot pit – pistols."

"Are you good?"

Pa’s frown deepened and he looked back at the hutch where he had spotted Little Joe. "Joseph -"

Something he couldn’t explain put Little Joe on alert. He opted for a "sir" that hurt his tongue terribly.

Pa put his coffee mug on the floor and leaned forward from the waist, forearms on his knees. "Were you playing with that pistol?"

Oh gee, he would never do that! Pa’s father had received that pistol from a president or someone. It was real important. Pa had told him that someday it would be his because he was named for Pa’s father.

"No, Pa," he formed the words even though they hurt his tongue even more. He stood slowly and walked toward the door. "I axe Adam bout de powm."

"If you find them, I’d like to read them, too." Pa sounded amused.

As Hoss put it, Little Joe "wasn’t worth shooting" that evening and the youngest member of the family – frustrated because he still didn’t have any tobacco – listened quietly as everyone speculated aloud about what was ailing him.

"Maybe eat too much honey at friends’ yesterday," Hop Sing offered.

"Maybe ya wrestled too hard with them McNally boys or somethin’," Hoss said next.

"Do you think he needs a salve on his tongue?" Pa asked, looking at Hop Sing.

Adam shrugged. "Maybe he has a guilty conscience."

Joe kicked his oldest brother under the table and Adam bent slightly from the impact.

Pa gave Little Joe his undivided attention, which was not much fun so Little Joe mumbled, "Sorry". He returned to his meal but didn’t fail to notice that Pa was continuing to study him.

"Tomorrow I want you around to help."

What did Pa think he was going to do? Go running off somewhere? It wasn’t like he was a baby or something. He knew he had to do his fair share and do it without complaining. If he and Aidan and Sean did get free, though, he thought the best place they could go to smoke their pipes was a new shallow cave he’d discovered. It was only about five feet deep and a little bit taller but it was hidden and best of all you could see when someone was coming. Nobody would ever –

Ow! Now Adam had kicked him. He looked up angrily but Adam’s eyes made a fast cut toward Pa. Silent language for ‘Pa’s talking to you’.

Uh oh.

Little Joe slid a look at Pa. He was sitting back in his chair, his left arm bent and his right hand holding his napkin; his usually happy eyes weren’t.

"We COULD talk in the barn where there aren’t as many distractions."

"We can talk in here," Little Joe assured.

Pa nodded. "Tomorrow, I expect you to be around to help. If Aidan and Sean go running off that is THEIR business not yours. It will be a long, hard day and I expect your best work."

Even after Little Joe’d said "Yes, sir" – and maybe because of it – Pa kept looking at him and if Little Joe hadn’t known better he would have thought Pa knew he was up to something.

As soon as supper was over and he’d done his share of the clean up, Little Joe excused himself and went to the front porch. Then, when he heard the others laughing by the fireplace, he used the outside door to the bunkroom and crawled under his covers. He hadn’t meant to aggravate Pa – he’d just had his mind on more important things.

Right now he needed to sleep so he could get up during the night and sneak some of that pipe tobacco.

Ben woke suddenly.

He listened for a moment but didn’t hear anything unusual. Smoke hadn’t barked. Probably just one of the boys getting up for something to eat. All the same, best to check. The last time he hadn’t checked the front door had blown open and they were half-frozen by morning.

He pulled on his trousers and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. Abigail and John Adams were asleep on the settee in front of the fireplace, their feet tucked under them so they looked like a pair of Chinese sculptures Ben had admired once. The door to Hop Sing’s room was open just enough to allow in the warmth from the living area. The door to the boys’ room was wide open and, out of habit, he looked in on them. Hoss was snoring softly, Adam was sprawled on his stomach as if he’d been dropped from the ceiling, and Little Joe was cuddled with his back toward his brothers. Smoke looked up from the floor near Joe’s bunk and thumped his tail, then laid his head back down.

Everything seemed fine. Ben crossed in front of the settee, enjoying the feel of the hide rug on his bare feet, and then paused. The faint scent of cured tobacco reached him and he directed his attention to the hutch and the heavy brass container Marie had bought for him years ago. There were a few stray pieces of tobacco by its base. He guessed Hop Sing had used it for something. Or maybe one of the boys had been stung and used it to draw out the – no, it was too cool for wasps.

Ben straightened and smiled slowly.

Pipe tobacco, hum? Now that explained a lot. That was why, at dinner the night before last, Ben had detected the fruity scent of Angus’ imported pipe tobacco and the unpleasant odor of a Lucifer near his youngest son. And now he understood why he had kept finding Little Joe in the house, hanging around the hutch. The good news was Little Joe had told the truth and he had not been playing with the pistol – the interesting news was that he had no more bitten his tongue than Ben had. He’d burned it smoking a pipe. And, if the leavings here at the base of the tobacco container were any indication, he hadn’t learned his lesson yet.

Well, now, this would be fun. Adam and Hoss had both tried cigars but neither had tried a pipe.

At least not that he knew of.

No, Hoss had learned from the cigar. He wouldn’t have tried anything else.

Adam? Ben turned and looked back at the son sprawled spread-eagled on his bed and grinned. Yeah, Adam had his moments. Adam had probably gotten acquainted with a pipe, more than likely in New Orleans. Ben would casually ask his eldest son about it tomorrow while they were working – just for the enjoyment of watching his youngest son’s face blanche.

Pa had a saying for just about everything and by the time Aidan and Sean had been around the Ponderosa for less than an hour Little Joe was pretty sure he knew which one Pa was thinking: when Aidan and Sean were given a chore they were worthless as half a haircut.

It wasn’t that Pa and Adam and Hoss and him didn’t joke around a lot when they worked – they did. Even before Angus and his sons showed up, Hoss and Pa had tossed the dirt they were digging on each other and had wrapped Adam in the rope they planned to use to mark the digging area. But they didn’t swing a shovel so they nearly sliced someone’s head open or trip a person so they fell in a newly dug hole and ran the danger of hurting their leg. That kind of thing wasn’t funny in the Cartwright family and Little Joe was amazed that Mr. McNally didn’t give his sons some hard swats instead of a look that barely slowed them down. When they threw hammers at each other and one nearly hit Little Joe, Pa made a movement that caught his attention and their eyes locked.

"Would you help me over here, please, Joseph?"

He knew Pa’s request for the order it was. He also knew it was designed to get him out of harm’s way and keep him from getting in a fight.

Before the second hour was over, Little Joe had figured out what Aidan and Sean were up to: they wanted to get out of work. And they knew if they made it miserable enough for everyone else their pa would tell them to go off somewhere. Which was exactly what he did.

The sight of them running toward the pond rankled Little Joe no end. He toted wheelbarrows of dirt toward an area that would be another garden for Hop Sing and considered trying Aidan and Sean’s trick. If he could get free of the work then he could show them the cave.

"Don’t think about it, little brother."

Little Joe startled at Hoss’ voice and looked up. Hoss didn’t even meet his eyes as he shoveled the dirt Pa and Mr. McNally were digging out of the hole into the wheelbarrow.

"Pa put you on notice at the table last night," Adam reminded without seeming to move his lips.

Wasn’t it enough that half the time Pa knew what he was thinking? When did Hoss and Adam start doing it?

Hoss looked up from under the brim of his hat and gave a quick nod. "It’s ready." He stood and leaned on the shovel, then stretched his back.

Little Joe had just returned from emptying the wheelbarrow when Pa and Mr. McNally climbed out of the hole that was now more than waist deep on them. Little Joe wasn’t sure how they both fit down there, big as they were. They were plenty dirty, though, and looked like they’d been having a dirt fight.

Hoss was the first one to the water bucket and then he sat on the porch with his hat off and his coat unbuttoned. Mr. McNally took a long drink next and he sat on the porch bench. He’d hung his coat there earlier in the morning and reached in the pocket for his pipe and a Lucifer.

"Join me, Benjamin?" he asked.

Pa shook his head. "I save my vices for night time," he said and then winced.

Mr. McNally gave him a round-eyed look as he struck the Lucifer on the arm of the bench. "Oh, aye?" and they both laughed. Hoss and Adam looked down, grinning.

"That’s a different smelling tobacco." Pa sat beside Mr. McNally.

"Um, imported. Not likely to find it round ‘ere."

Pa nodded. "Eli has some that comes from the islands."

Mr. McNally’s eyes closed as he leaned back against the house. "Ah, the islands. Remember those beaches? Winds would come in on an evenin’ and knock a man on ‘is tail."

"I think the rum had something to do with that," Pa observed dryly and Little Joe watched Hoss blush and look down. "That’s not the pipe you had when we were sailing, is it?"

"Don’t I wish! Now that was a good pipe – practically lighted itself. These pipes they make nowadays – no pride in workmanship anymore, ya know?"

Pa leaned back lazily and looked at Adam. "What do you think, Adam? Do they make pipes the way they used to?"

Adam shrugged his shoulders.

"You never tried one?" Pa was grinning. He knew something.

"Maybe in New Orleans," Adam said softly, looking down at his gloves.

"Maybe," Pa repeated. He sounded ready to start laughing.

"A couple of times," Adam conceded. He wasn’t exactly squirming but Little Joe could tell his oldest brother would like it when the attention went somewhere else.

"Did you use my tobacco or get your own?" Pa asked in his easy way and Little Joe jumped. Mr. McNally opened his eyes and grinned at Adam.

Adam smiled in spite of himself. "I got my own down at that shop off Chartres. It was a blend out of Virginia."

Both Pa and Mr. McNally screwed up their faces.

Adam looked affronted. "I thought it was good."

"How old were ya, lad?" Mr. McNally asked.

Adam thought a moment and then motioned toward Little Joe with the gloves he held in his right hand. "Maybe his age."

Pa looked over at Little Joe with a raised eyebrow and Little Joe’s heart slammed against his chest. Pa knew. No. How could he? Little Joe was just letting what Pa always told him was his over-active imagination get the better of him. How did an innocent person look? Should he smile back at Pa? Keep a straight face? Look down?

"Twelve, eh?" Mr. McNally said. "I was no more’n nine."

"Nine!" Hoss blurted out. "Didn’t your pa have your hide?"

"M’father made the pipe fer me, lad." Mr. McNally laughed and they all joined him.

Sean and Aidan were nowhere to be seen or heard until Hop Sing rang the triangle hanging from the porch eaves at midday. Since everyone who’d been working had to do some heavy scrubbing to get clean enough for the table, Sean and Aidan were seated and ready by the time the others entered.

Smoke, who had turned traitor and gone off with the two McNally boys, plopped on his side by the fireplace and didn’t even bother to drag his food dish over to start begging. Just as well, Joe thought in aggravation, cause he wouldn’t have given the darn pup anything anyhow.

Hoss, Pa and Mr. McNally laughed their way through lunch – even getting Adam and Hop Sing into it more than once. But Little Joe ate quietly, knowing full well that once they rested after lunch he’d have to work again while Aidan and Sean had all the fun.

Pa wasn’t being fair, that was just all there was to it. Little Joe had half a mind to tell him that, to remind Pa that he wasn’t grown like Adam or even mostly grown like Hoss. He didn’t have their muscles. Course he knew what Pa would say to that: "Well here’s your chance to work on some."

So, when their break was over, Little Joe dragged his boots in the footsteps of the men.

"Lit-tle Joe," Hop Sing called out.

Pa stopped as he did and they both turned to face the dining table.

"Where you go? Is your turn to do dishes."

Little Joe’s shoulders dropped. "Aw, Hop Sing –"

"Dishes is girl’s work!" Sean laughed from the doorway and Little Joe turned on him, fists balled at his sides. It was one thing for Sean to get out of work but another for him to call Little Joe a girl.

Pa put a gloved hand on Little Joe’s right shoulder and squeezed just hard enough to remind him to behave. "We share the work around here, Sean. Maybe you’d like to help, too, as a way of thanking Hop Sing for the good meal?"

"No bloody way." Sean ran from the doorway.

Little Joe pulled his shoulder up and said "ow" when Pa’s hand closed on it. Pa glanced down quickly. "Sorry, Joseph."

Little Joe was putting the plates away when Hop Sing’s muttered, "Very bad boy" stopped him in his tracks. He thought he’d washed the dishes up real good.

Turning slowly to face Hop Sing - afraid he would have to do the job again - Little Joe bit his lip. "What’d I do wrong?"

Hop Sing waved his left hand as he cut candlewicks apart. "Not you. One named Sean."

Little Joe tried not to let his relief show and then he walked to the worktable and watched Hop Sing place the two candles in their holders. "What do you mean?"

"Very rude to Mr. Cartwright."

Little Joe hung the rag he’d dried the dishes with on an iron arm by the fireplace.

Hop Sing shook his head. "Father understand other night when you make mistake, say bad word. But should never speak bad to elder."

Little Joe thought back to what Sean had said. "Ya mean when he said ‘no bloody way’?"

Hop Sing stood and wagged his right index finger. "Very bad, Little Joe. Do not say."

Little Joe knew he wasn’t going to get anything else out of Hop Sing so he pulled on his coat and walked along the path to the digging. Hoss was pushing a full wheelbarrow toward the area where they were dumping the dirt and Adam was leaning on a shovel, studying the sky.

If something about what Sean had said was bad he probably ought to ask Adam and not Pa.

Little Joe looked up at his oldest brother.

"Adam?"

He continued to watch the clouds. "Um?"

"What’s so bad about saying ‘no bloody way’?"

Adam’s eyes eased down to him and he stuck his left hand in his pants pocket. "Who said that?"

Not quite understanding, Little Joe answered, "I did."

"Before you."

Little Joe shifted from one boot to the other. "Sean said it when Pa asked him to help me clean up the dishes."

Adam kept his voice low which indicated to Little Joe that he didn’t want Pa to hear them talking. "Where Angus comes from they sometimes use the word ‘bloody’ when they’re swearing."

Little Joe was still confused. "But it isn’t."

"Not here, no." Adam picked up his shovel as Hoss returned with the wheelbarrow.

Little Joe shook his head and whispered, "How many cuss words do you figure there are?"

Hoss laughed and Adam resumed work. "Enough," Adam said.

Little Joe kicked at a dirt clod. "You figure there’s a book with all of them in it?"

Adam grinned at Hoss and said, "Probably."

"Well, I was thinking, see, that if a fella had that book he could look up a word before he said it and be sure he wasn’t cussing."

"Or," Hoss drawled with a knowing look at his little brother, "he could look up words and impress his buddies with all the cussing he knew."

Adam reached over and gave Little Joe a teasing swat on the seat of his pants. "Man that wheelbarrow."

By mid-afternoon Little Joe wasn’t sure he was gonna have the strength left to eat supper. What was Pa tryin’ to do? Work him to death? After all, he was only twelve - pretty soon to be thirteen - and he couldn’t be expected to work like a grown man. Anyhow –

"You’ve put in a lot of work today," Pa’s words cut into Little Joe’s thoughts as they stood at the water bucket. "Enjoy the rest of the afternoon."

Little Joe looked up at him in disbelief.

"Want me to change my mind?" Pa’s smile showed just about all his teeth.

Suddenly Little Joe wasn’t tired at all. He started running toward the pond and heard Pa call after him.

"Joe!"

Hopping on one foot, he turned around before Pa could say ‘Joseph’ and maybe call him back to work.

"Don’t be late for supper."

Little Joe never had figured out if you said "yes, Pa" or "no, Pa" to things like that so he nodded and took out running again.

It took him a full twenty minutes to find Sean and Aidan. They had cut branches from one of the trees and were having some kind of strange-looking sword fight. Little Joe sat down and pulled up his knees to watch them, whistling at Smoke to come join him. His whistle got the McNally boys’ attention and they walked over to him, grinning like they didn’t have any better sense – which Little Joe was beginning to believe they didn’t.

"Ready for a smoke?" Aidan asked.

Little Joe stood and jerked his head to the left. "Got the perfect spot. C’mon."

The three boys didn’t talk as they tromped through the high grass. As soon as he was certain of the destination, Smoke ran ahead and by the time they reached the cave he was sitting at the front of it with his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth and his blue eyes scanning the foothills.

"Glory!" Aidan said, his eyes admiring the shallow cave. "Ain’t this the perfect spot, Sean?"

"No grown ups." Sean laughed and nodded toward the valley that led to the cave. "And even if there was you could see ‘em comin’."

"This yours?" Aidan turned to Little Joe.

The youngest Cartwright sat down and opened the small box that held his pipe, tobacco and a couple of stolen Lucifers. "Yep. And we’re the only ones that know about it."

After a day of working with the men he was feeling a little superior to these two kids so Little Joe lazed back and filled his pipe the way he’d watched Pa do it a hundred times before.

"What’ve you boys been doin’?" he asked in his best grown up voice.

"We sure ain’t been slaving over no hole in the ground," Sean laughed.

"Yeah, we been doin’ what we want all day," Aidan added as he pulled his pipe from his pocket.

"If you don’t put your backs into a little bit of work then I’m pretty sure you won’t be getting’ any iced cream come summer," Little Joe said. "That’s the way it works around our place."

"Iced cream?" they both asked in awe, as if Little Joe had said something about the Bible.

This iced cream stuff must really be amazing to have all these different folks loving it so much.

"Why’d you think we’re building that ice house?" Little Joe asked. "Gonna put the pond ice in it and then have iced cream when it’s hot outside."

"We used to have iced cream in St. Louie." Sean lighted his pipe as if he did it every day. For all Little Joe knew he probably did.

"And lemonade with ice in it, too." Aidan followed his brother’s example and then sat down beside Little Joe with his legs dangling outside the cave mouth.

Now was the time. Little Joe struck the Lucifer on the rock and held it to his pipe. He kept his tongue out of harm’s way and for a minute he wondered if the tobacco was burning. A quick glance told him it was and he considered this new knowledge. The cigar had been awful. Mr. McNally’s tobacco had nearly seared his lungs. But this tobacco of Pa’s was real nice. It still made him dizzy and he coughed once or twice – but it didn’t fight him like those others had.

Or maybe he was just getting used to smoking. Yeah, that was probably it. It was probably like checkers, marbles and cards; the more you did it the better you got at it.

Nope, not exactly.

When they decided they’d better get back down to the house before someone came lookin’ for them, Little Joe was light-headed and sick at his stomach again. Sean and Aidan raced ahead with Smoke barking beside them but Little Joe found the going a little slower. By the time he reached the house the McNally’s had left for the day.

Little Joe sat on the side step to the porch, held his head in his hands and waited for things to quit floating like they were doing.

"Hey little buddy," Hoss reached down and slapped him on the back, then paused and frowned. He stooped down slightly to see Little Joe’s face. "You okay?"

Little Joe waved his left hand and nodded.

"Get those evening chores done," Pa called as he strolled toward the corral. "Hop Sing’s cooked ham for dinner."

Little Joe grabbed the pail for the evening milking and went out to Buttercup.

Ben Cartwright bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at his obviously distressed twelve year old as they sat at the dinner table that evening. "Good afternoon?"

"Yeah," he answered glumly. The youngster ate with his left hand and had his right arm propped on the table top, his hand cupping his chin.

Adam arched a dark brow.

Hoss frowned, not for the first time. "You sure you’re okay, little brother?"

"Yeah."

"Fatigue," Hop Sing offered. But the slight smile on his lips told Ben he thought otherwise.

"Ya know, Pa," Hoss said as he reached for second helpings – or was it thirds? – of the ham, "that pipe tobacco of Mr. McNally’s is strong as a buzzard’s breath. I been smelling it all afternoon and I swear I can smell it in here now."

Hoss’ sensitive nose was becoming legendary in the family – although it usually had to do with the aromas from Hop Sing’s cooking.

Little Joe’s eyes went left and then right, the way they always did when he was considering a situation. Right about now, Ben knew, the boy was wondering why his older brother could smell Angus’ tobacco when Little Joe had smoked Ben’s. Give it time. Yep, there it was. The eyes shot down to his plate as he realized he’d been smoking with Angus’ two sons and that was what Hoss smelled.

"Ya probably just have it in your clothes." They were some of the first words Little Joe had spoken without being prompted.

"And in your hair," Adam added quickly. "Probably someone with as sensitive a nose as yours should take a bath and wash your hair."

Hoss pulled back, holding his fork and knife in mid-air as he stared at his older brother in horror. "There ain’t no need to do THAT!"

"You work many more days?" Hop Sing inquired and Ben admired, once again, his ability to change the subject.

"We’ll be working the better part of the week on the hole and the dry set stones," Adam answered. He leaned back in his chair, holding his coffee mug. "Then we’ll need to mortar the foot and a half before we get to the surface. I thought –" He put his coffee cup on the table and ran his hand through his hair. "I thought Little Joe and I might make a wooden cover for the hole and tar the underside in the morning."

Ben had noticed the clouds after lunch, too. It sounded like a good idea to him. "Is that all right with you, Joe?"

"Yeah, sure."

Ben couldn’t resist. He reached over with his left hand and eased the boy’s hair aside so he could feel his forehead. Little Joe pulled back as if he’d been insulted.

"Nothin’s wrong and I sure as heck ain’t takin’ any medicine," he declared, all but throwing his napkin to the table.

"So you’re finished with your meal?" Ben asked.

Little Joe’s back stiffened. He seemed to think he was in for a battle.

Ben motioned toward the hutch. "Do me a favor then? Bring me my pipe and tobacco."

At first the boy didn’t move. When he did it was to very quietly ask, "Now?" to what was not an unusual request on Ben’s part.

Hoss and Adam stopped eating and watched the exchange with the barely hidden delight of brothers who know their father has something on another brother.

Ben casually poured coffee in his mug. "Yes, please."

Little Joe pushed back from the table. In the window, Ben saw Joe walk to the hutch, watching his father’s back almost the entire time. When Little Joe returned to the table, Ben thanked him and opened the brass tobacco container.

"Do you think we have enough rocks to line the inside of the icehouse?" Ben asked Adam.

"We’d better," Hoss muttered. "I don’t wanna bust anymore outta that rock shelf anytime soon."

Adam licked his lower lip. "Well, Hoss, we need more to build the outside walls. They need to be set two feet outside the hole and be about eight feet tall."

Hoss looked up and there was no amusement anywhere on the usually kind face. "That ain’t funny, Adam."

Ben recognized the next movement Adam made as an involuntary one of extreme uneasiness – he lifted his hips ever so slightly from his chair seat to reposition himself.

Glaring at his older brother, Hoss leaned forward. "You ain’t tellin’ me we gotta go back to that dadblamed place, are ya?"

Ben was grateful he had his pipe to his lips and Adam couldn’t see the smile he was fighting when his eldest son gave him a beseeching look.

"Maybe," Adam said softly and then cleared his throat, "maybe we’ll build the walls out of something else."

"Maybe we will," Hoss asserted. "Otherwise it’s gonna be you bustin’ that rock outta that shelf by yourself."

Little Joe looked from Ben to Adam to Hoss in confusion. "How come –" he stopped and directed his attention to Adam. "Why’re you busting rock? There’s a whole bunch of loose rock up by –" His arm went up to point behind the house but his sentence stopped in mid-breath. Ben could tell by the look on the freckled face that the boy was wishing he could bite his tongue out.

"Up by what?" Adam asked.

"Uh – well – " Little Joe started looking around the way he always did before telling a whopper.

"Joseph, we’d appreciate it if you know something that would make the work easier," Ben said as he shook out a Lucifer. Hoss wrinkled his nose in disgust at the smell.

His youngest son clenched his hands on the edge of the table. "Well – see – I’ve been ‘sploring and there’s this place uphill from the pond and it has all kinds of loose rock."

Instinct told Ben there was something else up there. Like maybe Joseph’s pipe. He didn’t want the boy sneaking out in the middle of the night to get it so he said, "Maybe you could show us in a couple of days."

The relief that flashed across Little Joe’s face was so comical that Adam and Hoss had to look down as their little brother spoke. "Yeah, sure Pa, a coupla days would be fine."

Little Joe lay on his bunk, listening to the murmur of voices in the living room and trying to decide if he was less dizzy with his eyes open or closed. This pipe smoking was not the fun it was supposed to be – leastways not for him.

The door opened and Pa came in, smiling. He sat down on the very edge of the bunk and began arranging the quilts Little Joe would kick all around in no time. "I’m very proud of you, Joseph. You did a man’s work today and you didn’t complain."

Little Joe felt a pang of conscience when he remembered how put out he’d been with Pa. But it didn’t last long because Pa started talking again.

"Your brothers and I decided you didn’t feel like yourself tonight because you worked so hard. So we’ll do your early chores for you and you can sleep until breakfast."

That sounded just fine to Little Joe and he nodded – then immediately wished he hadn’t and grabbed at the side of his bunk to steady his world.

Pa looked worried. "I think we need to have Hop Sing take a look at you, son."

"No, Pa, honest, I’m fine." Little Joe put on his best act of being brave, knowing Pa would be impressed by it.

He patted Little Joe’s hip and smiled. "All right. See you in the morning."

Once he had the room to himself, Little Joe started thinking. Adam would want him to show them the loose rocks in a couple of days. He needed to go back up there and get his smoking supplies out of his cave. Where was he going to hide them then? Between Pa and Hop Sing there wasn’t an inch of the house and buildings they didn’t know inside out. And if he was going to hold his own with Sean and Aidan tomorrow he needed more tobacco from Pa’s container tonight. And now Pa and Adam and Hoss felt sorry for him and were doing his chores in the morning when the only reason he felt sick was because he was doing something he shouldn’t be doing. That made him feel guiltier than just about anything he’d ever done.

When had life gotten so darn complicated anyhow?

He pretended sleep when his brothers came into the room, both of them talking in lowered voices about how tired the poor little fella was and hadn’t he worked like a man today? They were so proud of the way he was growing up. And wasn’t it great that he knew a place where there was loose rock?

Now he felt even worse.

Finally Hoss was snoring and Adam had blown out his candle and was breathing in that gentle, regular way that meant he was asleep. Little Joe threw back his quilts and tiptoed toward the living room, careful to step wide on the floor where it squeaked at the doorway. He had to wait for his eyes to adjust to the low light from the fireplace and then his shoulders dropped.

Pa had put back the tobacco canister on the top shelf of the hutch. How was Little Joe ever gonna get to it now? There was only one way as far as he could figure. He picked up a chair by the settee and although it was almost as big as he was he leaned way back and carried to the front of the hutch.

Getting up on the seat was no problem but once he was there a wave of the dizziness hit him and he had to lean against the hutch. When he finally felt better, he stretched as far on as he could on his bare tip toes and closed his hands around the base of the canister. To his horror, the lid started tipping like it was coming off. Still holding the base with his right hand, he slammed his left one against the lid and forced it back where it should be.

He’d saved the canister but in the process, his right elbow hit one of the china plates that sat on its edge and it teetered dangerously. Little Joe put the canister back and grabbed at the plate but by that time it had rolled on its edge and hit the one to his left. He watched in disbelief as, one after the other, the five white plates with their pretty red scenes rolled on their edges.

If he’d only been thinking he would have grabbed the last one on his left but – well – he wasn’t. Instead he grabbed the first one that had started rolling and put it back in place, then the second one, and as he reached for the third one it suddenly dawned on his tired brain that the fifth one was going to crash off the shelf. Panicked, he overreached for it and the chair, with him standing in it, toppled toward the desk where Adam and Pa kept some of their books.

What he couldn’t understand afterward was why, since everything seemed to happen so slowly, he didn’t come out any better. But the chair tipped and the legs slid out from under it and it sounded like a gunshot when it hit the wood floor; the plate shattered next to the chair; Smoke rattled the rafters with his barking; Little Joe landed on his belly on the desk; the little bookshelf above the desk fell onto his back and then to the floor; and finally Little Joe slid off the desk, bounced off the desk chair and landed on his back in the middle of the books on the floor.

It was too much too hope that Pa had slept through it all.

He looked like a giant, standing over Little Joe with his hands on the hips of his trousers and his eyes full of sleep. Behind him were a wide-eyed Adam, a half-asleep Hoss and a disbelieving Hop Sing. Not one of them asked if he was all right.

"What in thunder are you doing?" Pa demanded.

"I don’t know, Pa." The lie came so fast it scared Little Joe.

"You don’t know?"

Adam smirked behind Pa’s shoulder.

Little Joe looked around at the books beside him.

Hoss tapped Pa on the right shoulder. "Maybe he’s sleep walkin’ like I used to, Pa."

Pa pulled back slightly and gave Hoss a look of disapproval.

Little Joe stood up slowly, grateful for Hoss’ outstretched hand. "I think I was looking for that book of poems."

"In your sleep." Pa didn’t sound very convinced.

Little Joe nodded and instantly saw two of Pa. That wasn’t any good. One was enough.

"Hit head?" Hop Sign came forward after Little Joe grabbed his forehead. "You sleep in Hop Sing’s room. I watch you."

He’d never get any tobacco that way. "I’m fine, Hop Sing."

"Everyone go back to bed," Pa instructed. "Joseph, I’ll get the cot and you can sleep in my room."

"Pa," Little Joe whined, "I’m fine."

Pa leaned his head down and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "March."

Little Joe caved in. What was he going to do now? He had all kinds of time to think about it as he tossed on the cot in Pa’s room because he wasn’t used to how Pa sounded when he was asleep. He knew from the times they’d camped out that Pa didn’t snore like Hoss. Did he breathe deeply and evenly like Adam?

After what he judged to be a full hour from watching the stars outside Pa’s window, Little Joe slowly sat up on the cot, careful not to make a sound.

"Something wrong?" Pa’s voice made him jump.

"I’m going to my bed."

Pa rose on his left elbow and smiled slightly. For the world he had that look Abigail and John Adams got when they caught mice and were real proud of themselves. "Go to sleep, Joe."

He couldn’t know. There was no way. He just couldn’t.

Little Joe sighed deeply and lay back down.

"Joseph?"

A hand on Little Joe’s shoulder stirred him from his deep sleep. He mumbled and snuggled deeper into a pillow.

"Son, Hop Sing has breakfast ready."

Little Joe frowned and opened his eyes. What was he doing in Pa’s room – sleeping on Pa’s bed? Oh yeah, now he remembered. He’d made a mess of things in the living room last night. But he’d been sleeping on the cot. When had Pa moved him?

He sat up slowly. The dizziness was gone. That was good.

"Feeling better?" Pa sat on the edge of the bed.

Little Joe nodded and there was still just one Pa. That was even better.

"Angus won’t be coming until midday so we’re going to work on the digging until then. After that, Adam needs you to help him make the cover."

Little Joe squinted. "I gotta get to the outhouse, Pa."

Pa stood and watched him get out of the bed. "Maybe that’s where you were headed when you were sleepwalking last night." Even without looking at him, Joe heard the humor in Pa’s voice.

Mr. McNally rode up at midday just as Pa had said he would but he didn’t have Sean and Aidan with him.

"They had extra chores ta take care of," Mr. McNally explained when he saw the question in Little Joe’s eyes. "They’ll be here in a couple of hours." He grinned at Pa and shook his head. "I doubt we’ll be missin’ them overmuch ‘til then."

Adam tapped Little Joe’s left shoulder and motioned for him to follow toward the tool shed where they would build the cover for the icehouse pit. "The lumber’s ready. All we have to do is nail it together."

Little Joe followed him and listened to Adam’s instructions, then picked up the hammer and started where Adam indicated.

"Joe," Adam spoke just loudly enough to be heard over their hammering. "Word to the wise?" He sounded worried.

Little Joe looked up at his oldest brother but Adam motioned that he should continue to work.

"I know you’re smoking tobacco," Adam said and gave a slight shake of his head when Little Joe started to speak. "I could smell it on you last night at the table and even in the bunk room."

"You smoked in New Orleans," Little Joe accused.

"Yes and I got so ill Ma dragged me to a doctor and choked this stuff down me that would gag a maggot."

They looked at each other and made sour faces.

Adam resumed hammering. "I don’t think tobacco is doing you much good, either. And if you aren’t careful Pa’s gonna pour one of Hop Sing’s concoctions down your throat."

"Ya mean," Little Joe leaned closer and picked up another nail, "ya mean it didn’t get better?"

"What didn’t get better?"

"Smokin’ a pipe."

Adam shook his head. "I got more ill every time."

Little Joe started hammering again. "You’re – you’re not gonna tell Pa, are ya?"

"You’re old enough to make your own decisions."

Little Joe frowned. "What’s that mean?"

"It means I won’t tell Pa."

Little Joe didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until he took one.

After they’d finished the wooden cover, and tarred one side of it to help it turn any rain, Pa called Adam over to the work site to ask a question and Little Joe walked to the porch for a drink of water.

"Psst, Joe."

He looked up from the dipper. Hoss was flat against the front wall of the house, near the front door. He jerked his head for Little Joe and, rolling his eyes while he wondered what the joke was, Little Joe crossed the porch.

Hoss looked around again and then opened the bunkroom door and dragged Little Joe in.

"What in glory are you doing?" Little Joe demanded.

"Tryin’ to save your ornery hide. You’re smoking tobacco, ain’t you?" Hoss put his hands on his hips and leaned down slightly, his action so much like Pa’s it unnerved Little Joe.

He looked down at the floor and worked his right boot toe over a knot in the pine. "What if I am?"

"That’s what I thought." Hoss looked at Little Joe from the bottoms of his eyes. "And it’s makin’ ya sick, isn’t it?"

Little Joe cocked his head to the left, not ready to admit to anything. "What if it is?"

Hoss frowned. "Well did ya ever think maybe your head’s trying to tell ya somethin’?"

Little Joe frowned back at him.

"Dadblameit." Hoss waved his right arm in the air. "You were so sick last night at the table that your eyes kept crossin’. You think Pa ain’t gonna notice that and give you one of them awful things Hop Sing mixes up? Last time I had to take some of that medicine I thought it was gonna put me in a pine box."

"You ain’t gonna tell, are ya?" Little Joe tried his best to look like a lost puppy.

Hoss twisted his lips. "No, I ain’t gonna tell. I ain’t gonna HAVE to if you don’t quit foolin’ around with that stuff." His eyes flickered as a new thought came to him. "Say, where are you getting that tobacco anyhow?"

Little Joe considered the situation carefully. There was only so much information he was willing to let either of his older brothers have on him. He remembered something he’d heard Jack Wolf say one time when someone asked him about a whiskey he served at his place and thought the words might come in handy now. "I’ve got my sources," he said with no small amount of bluster.

Hoss studied him a long time and then shrugged. "Well, long as you ain’t doin’ something dumb like stealin’ it from Pa. Come on, we better get back outside before he misses us."

Now what was he gonna do? He couldn’t get to Pa’s tobacco because Hop Sing was working in the house and here came Aidan and Sean riding up on their horses at mid-afternoon. Maybe Pa would keep him close by and then he’d have an excuse not to go off with them.

But the one time Little Joe hoped Pa WOULD keep him working, he told Little Joe again how proud he was of the hard work he’d done and to take some time off and have fun with his "guests". Guests? Little Joe’d been over at the McNally’s so much – and Aidan and Sean had been at the Ponderosa so much – he didn’t exactly think of them as guests.

As soon as they were in the meadow, clear of the adults’ earshot, Sean uttered a curse Little Joe had never heard – not even from Lewis – and looked up at the sky. "I gotta have me a smoke and fast," he said.

Aidan nodded in agreement. "Ma was on us all morning. Soon as we finished one chore she came up with another. And she stood there the whole time watchin’ so we couldn’t even slow down."

Little Joe frowned and glanced over at the red-haired brothers. "She mad at you for somethin’?"

Sean grinned. "Molly was takin’ a bath and we stole all her clothes, includin’ the ones in her room, and hid them in the barn. It was pretty funny."

Aidan picked up the story "How was we ta know the dern dog would find ‘em and tear ‘em and drag ‘em through the horse stall. We didn’t tell ‘im to do none of that."

Sean’s grin faded. "Pa took a switch to us and then Ma kept us for all them chores. But we been thinkin’ and we’ll get back at ‘em."

Little Joe wasn’t sure he’d heard them right. "Get back?" He pushed the high grass aside and watched Smoke take out after some doves.

"Yeah, we’ll come up with somethin’ and make ‘em wish they hadn’t crossed us."

Little Joe slowed slightly. The way it sounded to him, Aidan and Sean had crossed their folks - not the other way around. He couldn’t imagine getting back at Pa. For one thing, it wasn’t right. The Bible said to honor your parents, and it was real serious about that. And for another thing – even though he’d never tried it – Little Joe was sure it wouldn’t work. He looked over at Sean and Aidan again and decided they sure enough didn’t have a lick of sense.

But even if they were dumb they were still a lot of fun. They’d helped him become a better marble player and were teaching him poker behind their house when they had the chance. They liked to fish and race horses and they were as good at swimming as Little Joe was. They were also good at throwing a rope and when no one was watching they would sneak off and practice on the calves.

Pa had told him more than once that you couldn’t expect to agree with your friends on everything and he guessed this getting back at your folks was one of those things. He’d just have to look past that and think about what they all three DID agree on.

"I can’t join ya today," Little Joe announced when they sat in the mouth of the cave to smoke their pipes.

"Why not?" Aidan demanded.

Little Joe shrugged and pulled up his knees. "Used all my tobacco yesterday."

Sean laughed and slapped him on the back. "Well, shoot, that ain’t no problem. Have some of ours."

Oh no. Now what?

"You know how it is," Little Joe tried to sound grown up. "I like my own kind."

"Aw, c’mon," Sean cajoled.

"What’s the matter?" Aidan challenged. "Ours too strong for ya?"

Little Joe wasn’t going to let a little kid get away with that. "No, it isn’t too strong for me," he said angrily. He opened his supply box for his pipe. "Here, give me some."

Mr. McNally’s tobacco was as stout as Little Joe remembered from the first time. He went easy, holding the pipe more than he puffed on it, and was pleased that he didn’t feel the familiar dizziness. After they’d had their "smoke" as Sean called it Little Joe explained that he needed to bury his small supply box because tomorrow he’d be bringing his brothers and Pa up this way to get rocks. They found an area of soft sand by the pond and, once they had covered the box, shoved off in a canoe Pa and Hoss had made especially for Little Joe.

Much to Little Joe’s delight he returned home that afternoon without the dizziness or upset stomach. That was the trick, he decided. Just puff on that pipe enough to keep it going but don’t really smoke. He was so proud of his new accomplishment he wished he could share it with someone. Best of all he could tell by the way Adam and Hoss looked at him at the dinner table that night that they thought he’d quit smoking just because they’d talked to him – leave it to older brothers to think they could make him do something.

Drenched in glory, he waited again until Adam and Hoss were asleep that night and then sneaked into the living room. Pa had put the holder and his pipe back on the lowest shelf and Little Joe had no problem at all opening the canister and putting some of the tobacco in one of the muslin bags he usually stored his marbles in. He went back to his bunk, put the bag under his pillow, and dropped off to sleep without a care in the world.

The next week or so went without a hitch - early chores; then breakfast; then Mr. McNally and his boys came over; then they’d all go load rocks for the ice house and stack them by the house; then lunch and a rest; then they’d lay the rock; and then Pa and Mr. McNally would let Joe, Aidan and Sean head off for some exploring time.

But the day after they finished the roof and hung the door on the icehouse things fell apart for Little Joe.

When he woke up he forgot to get the tobacco out from under his pillow and when he went back into the bunkroom and lifted his pillow the muslin sack wasn’t there.

"Oooh no," he moaned and fell on his knees to look under the bunk. When he found nothing there but his dirty clothes and treasures from all over the ranch he stood back up and dug through his blankets and sheets like a mad squirrel.

Where could it be?

"Smoke?" Little Joe looked around the room, wondering where he would lay a bag of tobacco if he were a dog. He eased into the living room and walked on the fronts of his boots, hoping Hop Sing wouldn’t turn from the worktable and see him. The white sack would be easy to see on the wood floor. The problem was, it wasn’t there.

He was reaching for the front door handle when the door opened right in front of him and Pa came in, pulling off his gloves. "Hey, Little Joe," he nodded and grinned widely then continued his long strides toward the coffee pot warming by the fireplace.

"Uh, mornin’ Pa."

Pa bent to pour a cup of coffee. "I need a word with you."

Uh oh. He’d found the bag.

Pa straightened and smiled over his coffee mug. "Something wrong?"

Little Joe stuck his hands in his rear pockets. "I just don’t wanna haul anymore rock."

Pa laughed. "We’re through with that. Just your regular chores and you need to rake that new garden area level so it’ll be ready in the spring. Then you can have the rest of the morning with Aidan and Sean."

Little Joe nodded and slid his eyes around the room once more, hoping he hadn’t missed that muslin sack anywhere. What if Abigail or John Adams had found it and stashed it on the hutch or the desk or –

"Be home for lunch," Pa reminded.

Little Joe nodded again and stepped out on the porch. Adam and Hoss were discussing the horses over by the corral and he ran to them.

"Have – have you seen one of my marble sacks somewheres?" Little Joe asked.

"Somewhere," Adam corrected.

"Where?" Little Joe leaned toward him.

"What?" Adam frowned slightly.

"Where’d ya see it?"

"What?"

Little Joe slumped his shoulders. How could Adam be so smart and so dumb at the same time? "Where’d ya see my marble sack?"

"Your marble sack," Adam repeated.

"You saw it somewheres."

"Somewhere," Adam corrected again.

"Where?!" Little Joe begged.

"What?" Adam’s blue eyes held complete confusion as Hoss grinned beside him.

Little Joe decided to take a different approach. "You said you saw my marble sack."

Adam shook his head. "When?"

Next to him, Hoss put his large right hand over his mouth.

"How’m I supposed to know?" Little Joe demanded. "You’re the one that saw it."

"I didn’t see a marble sack, Little Joe."

Hoss leaned back on the corral and started to chuckle.

"Then why’d you say you did?"

"I didn’t!" Adam wailed.

"Aw forget it!" Little Joe threw up his arms.

As he stormed toward the barn he heard Adam ask, "What the devil was that about?" and Hoss collapsed in laughter.

He searched everywhere he could think of - everywhere Smoke or Abigail or John Adams might have taken the sack and it was nowhere to be found. Course, knowing Smoke, if he thought it was something really special he’d go off and bury it and then Little Joe would never find it. Little Joe walked with his eyes on the ground, watching for any sign of freshly turned dirt and finally gave up.

He plodded through the meadow behind the house and stopped at the shore of the pond where his world came even more unraveled – there was a shallow hole where he’d buried the little box holding his pipe and Lucifers.

His first thought was Pa, of course. But there was no way even Pa could know he had buried it. The only ones who knew that were Aidan and Sean and when he got hold of them –

"We didn’t dig up your old box," Sean denied as his face turned red.

"You’re the only ones who knew," Little Joe said, feeling his temper rise as they stood on the shore. "It ain’t funny. Now give it back."

"Ain’t ya listenin’?" Aidan asked. "We don’t have it. Shoot, Joe, we got more than enough makin’s."

Sean glanced out at the pond. "Does that thing have a tide?"

Little Joe followed Sean’s gaze. He had no idea what a tide was much less whether the pond had one.

"When we lived by the ocean," Aidan said, "the water would come up higher sometimes than others. Maybe that’s what happened to your box."

Little Joe had seen the water come up higher when the snow melted and the streams poured into the pond but that was it. "You think some high water would come in and dig a hole like that and then head out again?" he asked mockingly.

Sean shrugged. "Never know."

"Yeah, I do," Little Joe said. "It wasn’t any water. It was a person."

Aidan motioned to the sand that was so dry it didn’t even show their boot prints. "How can you tell?"

It was time for one of Adam’s favorite sentences. "That’s the only logical conclusion," Little Joe quoted, holding his head up.

Aidan and Sean screwed up their faces as if he had spoken Spanish or some other language they didn’t understand but Sean didn’t let Little Joe’s nonsense bother him for long. "Maybe it was a bear. They smell real good, ya know."

Little Joe rolled his eyes. "You don’t know nuthin’. Bears smell terrible."

"I mean," Sean said as he jabbed at Little Joe, "they got good noses. Maybe one of ‘em smelled your pipe and dug it up and carted it off somewhere."

Little Joe looked down at the turned sand. He hated to admit it but what Sean said kind of made sense. Well, at least if it was a bear it wasn’t likely to leave the box on the front porch at the Ponderosa where Pa’d stumble over it. For a moment he felt sorry for the little wooden box – it wouldn’t stand a chance up against a bear.

He didn’t have long to grieve, though. Not with Aidan and Sean around. They had brought some rope so Little Joe saddled his horse and they headed off like they were going fishing, knowing all the while they were headed to rope some of the calves on the other side of the hill. Usually Little Joe enjoyed roping, but not that day. His mind kept going back to that missing sack with the tobacco and the hole where his pipe box should have been. He’d never cared much for loose ends and he sure as heck didn’t this day - not when there was the possibility that Pa might tie them up for him.

"Hey, little brother. How was the fishin’?" Hoss called from the front porch as Little Joe led Paint to the corral.

"We didn’t catch any." Which was the truth.

"Yeah? Adam and me sure did. Hop Sing’s gonna cook up the whole mess for dinner tonight."

Hoss’ words made bumps pop up on Little Joe’s skin. Adam and Hoss had gone fishing? Had they looked for Little Joe and Aidan and Sean?

Hoss kept making conversation as Little Joe removed Paint’s saddle. "Where’d you fellas go?"

"A secret place," Little Joe shot back.

Hoss laughed. "You don’t have to worry about us wanting to find it if you ain’t catchin’ anything there." He waited for Little Joe to join him on the porch and then walked into the house ahead of him, announcing, "Little Joe and them McNally boys didn’t catch a one."

Pa was sitting at the table studying one of the ranch record books and he looked from the tops of his eyes. "What were you using for bait?"

Little Joe gave an easy shrug. "You know, whatever we could find." He walked to the washbasin and gave his hands a minimal rinse.

Pa gave him a funny look, almost as if he were saying one thing but meant another. "You’ll find, son, that your success in catching something depends on the bait you use."

He knew. Sure as the sun had come up that morning, Pa knew about the tobacco bag that was missing and the wooden box that had been dug up. Little Joe ran his brain backwards, trying to remember if Pa had ever told him outright not to smoke a pipe. As long as he hadn’t then he couldn’t say Little Joe’d disobeyed him. You weren’t Ben Cartwright’s son for very long without learning what would get you tanned: disrespect, disobedience and -

Oh gee. Deceit. Ever since he’d been old enough to walk on his own, Pa had made sure Little Joe knew the meaning of deceit. All this pipe stuff was pure and simple deceit. His backside tingled like it had the other evening and he shifted uncomfortably as he dried his hands.

"This morning I went back up where we got all that loose rock," Pa said as they ate lunch. "And I noticed a cave up there, Joseph. Just about your size. Have you seen it?"

Boy was he glad he’d made sure they always picked up the used Lucifers. "Uh – yeah – I took Aidan and Sean up there a couple of times." Little Joe pretended to be more interested in his stew than he really was.

"It’s shallow and not too tall," Pa said to Adam, Hoss and Hop Sing. "But I managed to sit on the ledge and you can see a pretty good distance from there. In fact, if you look through the trees just right, you can see all the way to the pond. Did you ever notice that, Little Joe?"

Oooh. When had Pa been up there? Had he wondered why Little Joe was fretting about a hole in the sand? Had he been able to hear him talking with Aidan and Sean? No, no it was too far for that. Wonder how far away Pa could read lips.

"I thought you were afraid of heights," Hoss said to his little brother.

"I ain’t afraid of nuthin’," Little Joe asserted, sticking out his chin.

Adam’s eyes roamed from Pa to Little Joe. "Nothing?" He seemed to think Little Joe should be wary of at least something.

"Anyhow," Little Joe continued, pretending he hadn’t seen the look from Adam, "it’s not that high. You just go up this trail that’s on a real gentle slope. It’s not like climbing a mountain or something."

Adam took another slice of bread and slid his spoon into his stew. "What else can you see from up there, Pa?"

Pa leaned back a moment. "Well, like I said you can see the pond shore. And you can see all the meadow between there and the hill." He paused and put his napkin to his mouth, then took a sip of coffee. The pause caused all three of his sons and Hop Sing to look his way. "I liked the view so much I climbed the hill. And from the top of that hill I imagine you can see easily see ten miles."

"That so?" Hoss asked innocently. "What direction were you lookin’?"

Pa’s eyes shot to Little Joe. "The calf pastures."

Little Joe watched from the sides of his eyes for any movement on Pa’s part.

He continued to speak. " It’s hard to say who’s going to get hurt first, isn’t it, Little Joe? You or them."

"You mean –" Hoss blurted, "- you mean you been roping Adam’s calves? They’re too big, Little Joe. Practically full-grown. You’ll get hurt for sure."

Adam put down his spoon and rested his hands on either side of his bowl, deep blue eyes slamming into Little Joe.

"We won’t do it anymore," Little Joe hastened to assure his eldest brother. He rolled his eyes to Pa but all Pa did was raise his right brow.

Never comfortable with trouble at the table or anywhere else, Hoss cleared his throat and changed the subject as he looked around the room. "Say, where’s old Smoke? He don’t usually miss a meal."

"Not see dog all morning," Hop Sing chimed in quickly.

Pa’s forehead wrinkled. "Was he with you, Little Joe?"

"No, he tries to round up the cattle so we can’t –" Little Joe stopped and shook his head. "No, sir."

"Has anyone seen him this morning?" Pa asked, glancing around the table and getting only negative responses. He turned his questioning back to his youngest son. "When was the last time you saw him?"

"When we got up."

"We better find him soon as we finish eating," Hoss decided. "Otherwise he’ll be so hungry before supper he’s liable to eat one of us."

Great. Now his dog was missing along with his tobacco and his pipe. What was he gonna lose next? Little Joe wished this day would hurry up and get over with.

Adam and Hoss would have helped with the search after lunch but they needed to get to town and back and the days were shorter now. Hop Sing was busy working in the house, not inclined to come out into the chilly afternoon air, so that left Little Joe and Pa to look for the missing dog. They called, searched, Pa let out a couple of those whistles that Hoss always said were loud enough to wake the dead and usually caused Little Joe to cringe, and then they stood behind the house with Pa shaking his head in disbelief.

"This isn’t like Smoke," he said more to himself than Little Joe. "He’s always been a good, obedient dog."

Little Joe gave Pa a disbelieving look. A good, obedient dog? Is that why Pa had threatened to tan Little Joe so many times if he didn’t teach his dog good manners?

Pa took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair and then he looked over toward the icehouse. "You know, I locked that door just before lunch. You don’t think –"

The tall man’s strides were so long, Little Joe had to half run to keep up with him.

"I’m glad Adam and you put that cover over the pit until we start cutting ice," Pa observed. "Otherwise we might not have a dog."

We? When had Smoke become their dog? Funny how all the time he was a worrisome pup he’d been Little Joe’s and now that he was growing up and proving his worth he was suddenly –

Pa unlocked the icehouse and pulled back the heavy door and Smoke came running out, wagging his tail and acting as if he’d been spared a hanging. He jumped up at Pa and then licked Little Joe’s face. Little Joe felt something funny on this cheek and brushed it with his left hand.

Oh no. Wet tobacco leaves.

Pa stood by the open door, arms crossed at his chest, and Little Joe couldn’t read his expression to save his life.

Little Joe leaned around to look in the doorway and there on the temporary flooring were the remnants of his muslin sack, the little wooden box, a corncob pipe, and a bit of loose tobacco.

"So," Pa asked straight-faced, "how long do you think Smoke’s had this habit?"

Little Joe looked from the tops of his eyes. "Doesn’t smell like he’s been smokin’."

Pa nodded just as serious as a judge. "Looks like he’s more into chewing tobacco. Why don’t you take him to the house and see that he gets some lunch? I’ll clean this up."

Even though he knew that Pa knew – and this was nowhere near the end of it – Little Joe nodded wordlessly and led Smoke to the house.

He was ashamed to admit it, but for the next hour or so he avoided Pa mainly because he didn’t know how to deal with him. Little Joe was used to Pa’s easy way, and his teasing, and he was good at reading Pa when he was vexed but there was something different going on here and it made Little Joe antsy. He called to Smoke and they went to the cave so Little Joe could think things through.

He sat down with Smoke beside him and gazed toward the pond. Pa hadn’t clenched his jaw or flexed his fingers while his hands were on his hips or any of the other warning signs Little Joe knew only too well. But Pa wasn’t letting Little Joe get away with it either. It was almost like –

Little Joe quit scratching behind Smoke’s right ear and Smoke immediately bumped his hand, telling him to keep going.

"You know, Smoke," Little Joe said barely above a whisper, "it’s like Pa’s just letting me take bait until I finally get the hook caught." This new side to Pa brought no small amount of concern.

And now that he thought about it, it really wasn’t anything new. Little Joe had seen him do the same thing to Adam and Hoss – just let ‘em keep going until they had no way out but to ‘fess up and take their licks.

Little Joe closed his eyes and stroked the top of Smoke’s head. What he needed to do was stop right now. No more pipes or tobacco or sneaking behind Pa’s back. If he stopped right now, this minute, he just might have a chance.

Ben unfolded his arms and gave the icehouse interior another study. He knew that muslin sack: it was one of the used tobacco sacks he had given to Little Joe to store marbles in. Bending to sit on his heels, Ben picked up what was left of the small box that, at one time, probably had held the nails they used when they had built the outhouse and the tool shed. Adam or Hoss had used no small number of them to repair the barn door, too.

And the corncob pipe? Where had Joe learned to make one of those? Ben rolled what was left of it around in his hand, grinning at the tooth marks Smoke had branded it with. It wasn’t enough that the dog had left Little Joe behind every chance he had when the McNally boys had been around – now he’d laid all the evidence of Little Joe’s wrongdoing in the open for Ben to see. Poor kid was probably feeling like the captain of a mutinous crew about now.

Putting all the debris in one gloved hand, Ben checked the ice house to be sure Abigail and John Adams weren’t inside and then closed and locked the trap door. He threw the debris into the barrel for burying and leaned back against the house wall, enjoying the autumn breeze and considering what his next step should be.

He’d thought for sure Little Joe would give up the tobacco after a few times of experimenting with it. Adam had. But judging by the lowering level in the brass canister his youngest son had developed a fondness for it – or was continuing to use it to save face with Sean and Aidan.

The thought of Angus’ two boys caused Ben to twist his lips to the left. "If those two were mine," he said to himself, "they’d have the flattest butts in the territory from all the hide they would have lost."

But they weren’t his. Joseph was. And it was enough figuring out how to deal with him. He was changing. Ben knew it was to be expected with the youngster turning thirteen at the end of the month. They were in for some interesting years ahead. When Joe had said "damnation" at the table, and used it correctly at that, Ben had not been as surprised as he probably should have been – mainly because he’d overheard Adam using it more than once lately and there was nothing a little brother loved to do more than mimic a big brother. Adam hadn’t let the language slip around Ben yet but it was only a matter of time. Now THAT was going to be interesting.

In the meantime, back to Joseph. Ben stuck his head in the back door and called to Hop Sing. "Is Little Joe in here?"

Hop Sing turned to look over his shoulder from reading his newspaper. "He say he go to cave to think great thoughts."

Ben tilted his head. "Great thoughts? He said that?"

"No, I add that," Hop Sing said with a light laugh.

Ben grinned and closed the back door. The cave hum? Well, that was as good a place as any to talk. Ben took his time, knowing from experience that Little Joe could see him coming across the dry grass meadow. He made his way up the narrow path and stopped about three feet from the cave opening, just in time to overhear Joe talking to Smoke.

"That’s what I got to do, Smoke," Little Joe was saying. "I got to talk to Pa man-to-man."

Smoke whimpered slightly and thumped his tail and Little Joe opened his eyes, not too surprised to see Ben standing there.

"May I join you?" Ben asked.

Little Joe scooted to his left to make room.

The front of the cave was just tall enough for Ben to sit down and have some headroom. He took off his hat and held it in his right hand.

"Nice spot you have here," he said.

Joe nodded.

"What do you think of Smoke’s tobacco problem? Don’t want to see him keep it up but the tobacco sure sweetens his breath."

Little Joe gave him such a disbelieving look Ben had to glance away to keep from laughing.

"How do you plan to handle it?" Ben asked, his wrists resting on his thighs as he swung his legs.

Little Joe blinked as if he were coming out of a deep sleep. "Huh?"

"How are you going to convince Smoke he’s too young for tobacco?"

Little Joe looked down and ran his right hand up and down his pants leg. "He’s real sorry, Pa. He’s already told me he’s not gonna do it anymore. Leastways, not ‘til he’s old enough to decide for himself."

Ben licked his upper lip. Wonder where Little Joe had heard that? He took a long, deep breath. "And is his being sorry enough?"

Little Joe sounded more six than twelve as he asked, "Do – do you think he oughta be in trouble?"

"You tell me," came the measured response.

Little Joe looked at Ben hopefully. "I never told him straight out not to mess with tobacco so it’s not like he disobeyed me."

"No," Ben agreed.

Little Joe bit at his lower lip before continuing. "But he snitched your tobacco and Lucifers - that’s not right."

"No," Ben agreed again.

Joe couldn’t keep looking in Pa’s eyes so he directed his attention to the trees and the meadow and the pond shore. He gazed for a long time then turned to Pa with resignation on his face and in his posture.

"What’s the use? You know that ain’t Smoke’s pipe and tobacco."

Pa sat silently.

Little Joe finally asked, "Am I in trouble?"

And again Pa responded with, "You tell me."

Little Joe looked liked he’d sooner eat a dead skunk.

Finally, weakly, he said, "You never told me I couldn’t."

"I never told you you couldn’t," Pa repeated softly. His right eyebrow went up as he faced Little Joe. "If you didn’t think there was anything wrong with what you were doing why did you do it in secret? Why didn’t you pull out your pipe and smoke when I did after dinner?"

"I – I didn’t smoke much." Little Joe tried to wiggle his way out of trouble.

Pa’s back stiffened. "You’ve been smoking a pipe since the day Adam went over to Angus’ to talk about the ice house. You’ve been stealing my tobacco and Hop Sing’s Lucifers. And despite all the chances you had to stop, you were up here smoking with Aidan and Sean every day."

Smoke inched his head into Little Joe’s lap, sensing something was wrong and seeking to console. Little Joe swallowed hard. "I’ll – I’ll pay you and Hop Sing back for –"

"That isn’t the point," Ben interrupted and Little Joe hunched his shoulders. "For the love of heaven, Joseph! Are you going to follow those two around like Smoke follows you?"

His youngest son stayed quiet.

"Well?" Ben felt his anger rising.

Little Joe sucked in a short, jerky breath and looked him in the eye.

"Who do you answer to?" Ben leaned closer.

"You, Pa."

"And who do Sean and Aidan answer to?"

Little Joe shook his head. "Not much of anybody best I can figure."

"Can you see the problem there?" Ben continued.

"Seems to me it’d be kinda nice not to answer to anybody," Little Joe said truthfully. "You don’t."

Ben did a double take. What did the boy mean he didn’t answer to anyone? He swung his right arm wide, motioning toward the meadow. "I answer to the law, to the government, to you boys –"

That brought a frown to Little Joe’s face.

"Joseph, that’s what responsibility is – "

Little Joe held up his right hand quickly, indicating he didn’t need that lecture again. "I know ‘bout responsibility," he muttered. "And consequences."

Pa seemed to take heart from what Little Joe said. "THAT’S my point, son. You know those things - Aidan and Sean don’t. You’re right: I never told you not to smoke a pipe. But you know not to."

"You smoke a pipe."

"I didn’t when I was your age."

"Mr. McNally did."

Once again, Pa leaned toward him and said a little more sternly. "Who do you answer to?"

Little Joe began to have a sneaky suspicion and he squinted as he tried it out. This could go either way and one way would put him across Pa’s knees. "You ain’t as upset about me as you are about them."

Everything in Pa’s face registered surprise, then for the briefest of time Little Joe could tell he actually thought about denying it. Little Joe’d always been the best at catching Pa at stuff, though most of the time he had the good sense not to say anything. He wasn’t sure why he was feeling so brave right now. Sure hoped he didn’t regret it in a minute.

Ben ran his hand through his hair and blew out a long, steadying breath. "I think you know how I feel about their behavior without me saying any more."

Little Joe leaned closer. "Is –" he looked away and then back. "Is this one of those things where you don’t agree with a friend?"

Ben said yes, it was.

"We got one of those, too - Aidan and Sean and me," Little Joe said softly.

"One of what?" Ben kept his voice even so the youngster didn’t spook.

"One of those things you don’t agree on." Little Joe picked up a small pebble and tossed it out of the cave, causing Smoke to perk his ears and sniff the air.

Ben pulled his right knee up and waited for his son to continue.

"One day Aidan and Sean got in trouble. Their pa used a switch on ‘em and their ma gave ‘em a bunch of extra chores and had ta watch while they did ‘em –" Little Joe broke off and looked at Ben in amazement. "That’d be a bad day if you had to watch me do chores, wouldn’t it?"

Ben said that yes it would and wondered if his amusement was showing.

"Anyhow, they said they were gonna get back at their folks."

Ben didn’t like the sound of that. He laid his hat aside. "What did they mean get back?"

Little Joe shrugged. "They were real mad at their folks and said they’d make ‘em regret getting on to ‘em."

Spunk was one thing. What Joe was telling him about in Aidan and Sean was dangerous. "What did you think of that?"

The twelve year old’s honesty warmed Ben inside. "It’s not right."

Ben purposely looked away. "You’ve never been angry at me?"

"Well, sure, same as you’ve been mad at me. But – well – I’d never try to get back at you."

Ben cut his eyes to his freckle-faced son. "Why not?"

Little Joe pursed his lips. "I wouldn’t win. I don’t EVER win. Just like now: my own dog told on me."

Ben rested his right elbow on his bent knee and grinned behind his hand.

"You were just waiting, weren’t ya?" Little Joe muttered. "Treating me like a durn fish. Playing out the line and pulling it back until you could set the hook."

"Actually," Ben corrected, "I was hoping you would get sick of the bait and swim away from the hook." The fact that Little Joe winced at the last word didn’t escape Ben’s notice. "So here’s the warning, Joseph: no more tobacco until you’re an adult. Disobey me and I promise you a tanning. Remember who you answer to and what OUR rules are. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Pa."

"No more deceit."

"No, Pa," Little Joe said with all his heart.

Ben nodded and stood, indicating that Little Joe should follow, and thinking to himself that maybe, just maybe, his youngest was beginning to show some early signs of maturity. They picked their way single file. As soon as they were off the narrow trail on the hillside, Smoke barked and ran ahead of them into the meadow. Ben broke a switch from a bush they passed and swung it back and forth in the tall, dry grass as if he were clearing a path. Smoke couldn’t stand it and chased the end back and forth in front of him, setting Little Joe to giggling.

"Tell me," Pa said as he walked slowly so Little Joe wouldn’t have to half-run beside him, "whose tobacco was better? Angus’ or mine?"

The mischief Little Joe had never been able to control, and hardly ever tried to, bubbled to the surface. "Mr. McNally’s," he said just as seriously as he could and made ready to run. "Yours tasted kinda cheap."

The reply stopped Ben in his tracks long enough for Little Joe to get a good head start. Nevertheless, the little imp grabbed his hat and screamed for help all the way home as Ben ran behind him, shouting and laughing and brandishing the switch, while Smoke bounded after them, barking like a big dog.

+The end+