Those Who Remain

By Marion

The Ponderosa and the Cartwrights are not mine (except for Annie and Charlie, of course) Thank you to Mr. Dortort for allowing me to play on the Ponderosa for a little while. This story is purely for entertainment and is not intended to infringe on the rights of anyone else involved with Bonanza and Ponderosa. Thanks (as always!) to Nancy for her beta-read.

Annie set the platter of chicken in front of me and smiled slightly before she slid into her seat next to me. I winked at her, and was rewarded with a bigger smile. Glad to see that smile, for they had been rare the past few days, despite the season, I grinned and folded my hands.

Dear Lord, we thank you for this bountiful feast and for the good health we continue to enjoy. We pray that You keep safe our beloved family members who are far from us on this most Holy Day. Amen

Three fervent amens followed my own, and I looked around the table. How different this year was from last. Not only was my eldest son missing from his customary seat, but last year’s Christmas table had included my oldest brother, John, and my youngest brother’s two brothers-in-law. I knew that Annie was missing her three uncles, even if two of them had departed under less than happy circumstances.

I watched Annie pass the platter of chicken to the young man sitting next to her, and I did not miss my niece’s shudder when the two touched hands. I sighed quietly, remembering my own distant youth, and the feelings of first love. Mitch was joining us for Christmas dinner for the first time, and however it pained me to admit, I knew it would not be the last we shared. Still, I had become very fond of Mitch, although I did my best to hide that.

"Hey, if you two are done mooning over each other, could you pass me the tray, Mitch?"

Leave it to my youngest son to lighten the mood. Joseph, like his brothers, was not above teasing Annie and Mitch when the opportunity arose. I watched her stick out her tongue at him, and I smirked. He would soon enough regret his teasing, for I had seen him watching the girls his age, and I knew, even if he did not, that Annie would have a long memory. She was, after all, her father’s daughter.

I wondered briefly if Hoss was enjoying his meal as much as we were enjoying ours. He had been invited to Lucinda’s house for the day, and I didn’t expect him home until chores.

Adam was, I suspected enjoying his Christmas dinner in Eastham. I knew that Abel had spent the past years on Cape Cod, keeping the holiday with my cousin, Charlie, and I knew from Adam’s most recent letter, which he had written in early September, that my son planned to spend as much time as possible at the Three Sisters. I glanced over to the hutch, and the book that lay waiting. Adam had promised his brothers and cousin that he would write down all the stories that he heard from Abel and from Charlie, and my son was as good as his word. The book of stories was his gift to us, and I, for one, was looking forward to reading them. Joe, Hoss, Annie and I had agreed to read a few stories every night until the stories were done, and I had been forced to promise that I wouldn’t read ahead to censor any unflattering stories about myself.

"Hey, Pa!" Joe’s insistent tone drew my attention from the book and I looked at him blankly.

"Pa, I asked if you wanted any more chicken." Joe frowned.

"Go ahead and eat it, son." I tried to hide my grin. Joe’s appetite had increased tremendously in the past few months, as he experienced a growth spurt. His voice had deepened and he needed to shave periodically. I didn’t think he would ever reach Hoss’s size, or even Adam’s, but at fifteen, he was no longer a little boy. Certainly he worked as hard as either of his brothers.

Annie and Mitch were ignoring Joe; they appeared to be in their own little world as they spoke quietly together. I was glad to see Mitch’s black eye fading. He had jumped to Annie’s defense at the dance earlier in the week when an overzealous newcomer had refused to accept Annie’s polite no when he had asked her to dance. When the man had grabbed Annie’s arm to force her onto the dance floor, Mitch had beat me to the stranger by a scant moment.

When everyone was finally done with dinner, I offered to do the dishes. Annie looked surprised, but she smiled shyly when I suggested that Mitch would be leaving soon, and they might want to spend some time on the porch. She wasn’t about to say no, and I soon found myself elbow deep in dishwater.

Annie didn’t come in before I was done, and I challenged Joe to a game of checkers. We played a few games before the door opened and Annie entered, looking flushed, and her hair out of place.

She stopped a moment, but didn’t look in my direction. "Joe, Hoss is waiting for you to do chores."

As Joe grabbed his coat, Annie hung up her shawl and headed for her room.

"Anna?"

She turned, but I waited until Joe closed the front door before I crossed the room to stand in front of her.

"It’s Christmas, Anna."

She looked down before nodding. "Yes, sir." Satisfied that she understood that I was excusing her apparent lack of decorum because of the holiday, but that I wouldn’t excuse it again, I stepped aside and allowed her to go to her room.

I settled on the sofa and stared into the flames. Obviously Annie and Mitch had done more than just sit on the porch and a few months ago, I would have singed her ears for that. But I had learned that I could trust them both, when they spent the night alone after falling into the river.

I rested my head against the back of the sofa and closed my eyes, my mind slipping back more than twenty-five years. Liz and I had taken advantage of every private moment to do something more than hold hands. Indeed, we had been startled more than once when her father or my great-uncle would suddenly appear in the room. I chuckled softly as I thought back to Adam’s latest letter, in which he relayed his grandfather’s opinion that I was only getting what I deserved where Mitch and Annie were concerned. There was, I supposed, more than a grain of truth in that.

Annie’s door creaked open, and I could hear her crossing the room only to stop in front of me. I opened my eyes. She looked so solemn that I held out my arms and she settled onto my lap, her head resting on my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around and held her tight. Neither of us spoke for a long while until finally Annie sighed.

"You’ve been very quiet these past few days, Annie."

I could feel her nod against my chest. "I guess I’m missing them."

"Your other uncles, you mean?"

Again the nod. "And Adam." Annie shifted her weight slightly. "But mostly I’m missing Papa."

"I miss him, too, Annie."

We sat for several minutes. I found myself mesmerized by the dancing of the fire’s flames and the only sound in the room was the hiss and pop of the fire. Annie’s soft breathing soon led me to believe that she had dozed off, and I sat, content.

Annie didn’t stir until Hoss and Joe stepped inside and slammed the door behind them.

"Sorry, Pa."

Hoss is always sorry about slamming the door, but he never seems to close it quietly. I decided to let it pass on Christmas. "How is Lucinda?"

"She’s real fine, Pa."

Something about the tone of his voice caused me to turn in my seat to stare at him. Annie scrambled to her feet and I could hear her snicker. Hoss must have realized how he sounded, because he turned beet red and started to stammer. Finally he held out a basket.

"She sent some cookies that she and her ma made."

Annie took the basket from him and offered to make coffee to go with them. Before long we were all arranged around the hearth; Joe and Hoss on the chairs, Annie and I on the sofa. She curled her feet under her and set the book of Adam’s stories on her lap. Joe leaned back in the chair and propped his feet on the table.

"Joe…"

"Sorry, Pa." He sat up and put his feet on the floor. I rolled my eyes. Like Hoss, he was always sorry, but he never corrected his behavior without a reminder. He pointed toward Annie. "How come she gets to put her feet on the sofa.

Annie stuck out her tongue. "When you wear a skirt and have the draft blow on your legs, I’m sure Uncle Ben will let you put your feet on the sofa."

I held up my hand to stop Joe’s retort. "Annie, are you going to read the stories?" I blew on my coffee to cool it slightly.

"Unless someone else wants to?" Annie held the book out to Joe and Hoss, but both shook their heads, as I knew they would. She shrugged and opened the red leather cover.

Looking over her shoulder, I could see the familiar writing fill the page. Ever since the book had arrived, I had been wondering what stories it might contain. I had no doubts but that Abel and Charlie would dredge up the most embarrassing stories about me that they could. Now I would find out.

Annie began in her soft, clear voice…

Dear Family:

These are the stories I promised you. I wrote them down exactly as Grandfather and Charlie told them to me. I only wish you could hear them tell these stories, as I fear I may not have captured them perfectly. I have done my best.

Annie paused in reading and chuckled. "His best. I’d bet these stories are word perfect." She winked at me. "Not a real bet, Uncle Ben, a bet bet."

I tried to not roll my eyes. I was never quite sure what the difference was between a bet and a bet bet, and I’ve given up trying. As long as no money passes hands, I’m content. I waved toward the book. "Keep reading."

This first story is from Charlie, and it’s a story of when he and Grandfather were boys.

* * * * * * * * *

"You know that my father raised your grandfather, don’t you Adam?"

I nodded. That was something Pa had told us several times.

"Well, at that time my father owned the gristmill, although he didn’t care much for it. Being the miller was what retired seamen did, and he had a family to support. A man will do much to feed his children."

Charlie tapped out his pipe. "Every summer, the men in the area would work to harvest the hay in the salt marshes. They did it to feed their own animals, and they could sell it in Boston. When the Pilgrims first started moving to the Cape, it was because of the salt hay."

I watched him refill his pipe, secretly amused at how similar his mannerisms were to Pa. I wondered idly if such things were learned and had Charlie learned it from his father? Maybe Pa learned it from his great-uncle, for I don’t think my grandfather smoked.

Charlie continued his story. "We were boys. Joseph and I were about eleven or twelve, so Will would have been thirteen. Tom, of course, was practically a grown up of seventeen and had helped Father in the marshes for the previous few years. That year, Father decided that we younger boys could earn some pennies for helping the men.

"That was, oh, 1793 or 4, and a few pennies meant a great deal to us." Charlie laughed. "Not that I had any idea where we might spend it, as the local store didn’t have anything we wanted but candy, and Mother wouldn’t have let us spend it on candy. But, as it turns out, we didn’t get any pennies."

Charlie stared into the air, as though seeing the events as they transpired. "It was a miserable job. You can’t imagine it, standing in water or thick mud, the mosquitoes and the greenhead flies taking chunks out of you. The sun beat down on us, and the sweat poured off us. Of course, the water in which we stood was salty, so that meant we’d come out with our feet muddy and all our clothes stiff with the salt.

"Now, I don’t know what you’re father has told you about his father, but Joe tended toward laziness. Well, he did when he was a boy, anyway. He was always looking for a way to make a job easier and less work for himself. Our job in the marshes was to pick up the hay that Father and Tom cut. We’d twist a bit of it and tie the twist around a bundle of more hay. Then we were supposed to carry the bundle to a wagon that was on more solid land. Some of the men put their oxen and wagons on draft boats, and loaded them up that way, but Father wouldn’t do it, I don’t know why."

Our cousin took a long draft on his pipe and leaned back, his hands resting on his thighs. "On the last day, Will, Joe and I were having trouble keeping up with Father and Tom, and because we got paid by the number of bundles we tied, we wanted to get as many as we could before Father and Tom finished cutting for the morning. But the wagon was farther off than usual, and we spent too much time lugging the bundles back and forth. That’s when Joe got the bright idea that we could move the wagon closer. After all, he said, the oxen were already standing in water; what possible harm could it be to make them stand in deeper water."

Charlie chuckled. "Will and I agreed; after all, we wanted the money as much as Joe did, and we were just as tired of standing in the marsh. So we moved the oxen closer to the cut hay. Father was a distance away, and his back was to us. We very happily bundled the hay and loaded it onto the wagon, and by the time the lunch hour came, we had almost caught up to Father.

"That’s when our troubles began." Charlie shifted in his seat, and rubbed his hands along his trousers. "Tom turned around first, and when he saw us throwing the last bundles into the wagon, he tapped Father on the shoulder. I could see my eldest brother speaking earnestly for a moment, and then Father turned around.

"Now, Adam, I don’t know what your father has told you about my father and his temper, but it was formidable, and we boys lived in the constant worry that we might arouse it. Father had what some people call a florid complexion, and when he grew angry, his face would turn bright red. He looked like nothing less than one of the prophets of the Old Testament. Even at that distance, we could see his face flush, and it didn’t take a genius to know he was angry. He stormed toward us – or rather, he slogged toward us, his arms waving about. We could hear him shout ‘What the Devil do you think you are doing?’"

I snickered. Although these events happened fifty years ago, I could see Charlie grimace at the thought of facing Uncle John’s temper. But I didn’t say anything for fear he would stop the story.

"Well, I looked at Will, and he looked at Joe, and Joe shrugged. We none of us could figure why Father was so vexed. Our answer wasn’t long in coming, though, when he stood in front of us and pointed at the wagon.

"‘Just how the Devil do you expect to get that wagon out of here?’

"Will looked at Father like he had two heads. ‘Uh, lead the oxen out, sir?’ It was always best to say ‘sir’ if you thought you were in trouble."

Charlie raised an eyebrow at my laugh. "Ben’s the same way, is he?" I nodded, and Charlie told me I owed him a few stories some day.

"At any rate, Father told Will to go right ahead and lead the oxen out. But Will couldn’t. The wagon was mired in the mud. Father stood, hands on his hips and glowered at us. ‘Which of you boys had the bright idea of moving the wagon into the softer mud.’ Well, Adam, I don’t mind telling you, I was right glad that your grandfather had to step forward. ‘Mine, sir. I thought we’d get our work done faster.’ Poor Joe, his voice was so quiet that we could barely hear him. But Father took no pity on my cousin.

"’Faster, did you? Did you not think that had I wanted the wagon closer to where we were working, that I would have moved the wagon closer? Did you not think that I had a reason to leave the wagon where I did? No, you did not, for I can clearly see that you DID NOT THINK! And now where are we? Half a day’s work stuck in the mud! Of all the addle-brained plans…’ With every word, Father’s voice grew louder, and he poked his finger at Joe until he finally poked my cousin in the chest, and knocked him into the mud. Joe sat there, too worried to even move. It was Will who finally spoke what all three of us were thinking.

"’Are you…are you going to thrash us, Father?’"

Once again Charlie shifted in his seat. "I tell you, Adam, my heart sank at that. Each of us knew from experience what an unpleasant prospect that would be. Father turned on Will. ‘A thrashing, boy? If I thrashed the three of you every time you did something stupid, why, my arm would fall off!’ Father looked at the sun and then looked at us. ‘Tom and I will take lunch now. The three of you will figure out what you need to do to move that wagon before you may stop work.’ He turned toward Tom, who was smirking behind Father, but he turned back to us. ‘If I see any of you fighting about this, well, that won’t be stupidity, that would be disobedience, wouldn’t it?’

"I think it was a good thing he gave us that warning, for as the afternoon wore on, we became more and more hungry and more and more short tempered. We had to unload the wagon, carry the hay to the place where Father had placed it originally. Then we had to get the wagon out of the muck by placing boards under the wheels and rocking the wagon and tugging on the oxen until it was finally freed. By that time, of course, Father and Tom were back swinging their scythes and there was more hay to bundle. We were so far behind that Father and Tom had to stop what they were doing to help us bundle, and because Father lost work time, he deducted that from our pay. We ended up owing him money, and it took us three days of extra chores to pay him back." Charlie grinned. "You may be sure it was a long time before Will and I listened to one of your grandfather’s time saving schemes!"

* * * * * * * * *

I wiped the tears from my eyes; whether they were caused by my laughter or by the profound sense of lose I felt thirty years after my father’s passing, I did not know. "Father told Eddie and me that story once, after he caught us doing something very stupid. Like Will, we were afraid we were going to catch it good, but Father said the same thing Uncle John had said, that if he thrashed us every time we did something stupid, his arm would fall off. Then he actually laughed and told us the story."

"You didn’t get punished, Pa?"

I looked at Hoss. "I didn’t say that. We had enough extra chores to keep us from doing something stupid for many days."

Hoss grinned at that, no doubt remembering the number of times he did extra chores for the very same reason. Then he slapped Joe on the arm. "Sounds like you got more than Grandfather’s name, little brother."

Joe looked puzzled as he rubbed his arm. "What do you mean?"

"That bit about bein’ lazy, and looking for ways to make chores less work for himself."

I could see Joe getting ready to retaliate, so I quickly added, "There’s another thing your brother got from my father." All three turned to look at me. "My father was one of the most honorable men that I have ever known. I know he’d be very proud of the grandson who bears his name." I was watching Hoss when I said that, but from the corner of my eye, I could see Joe sit a little straighter. I smiled at all three of my father’s grandchildren. "He’d be proud of you all."

"And now, Annie, are there other stories in that book?"

She nodded. "Yes, sir, lots." Grinning, she turned the page. "Adam writes that this is another story from Charlie. Adam had asked him what our grandmother was like, and that Charlie’s face lit up like the summer sky when he began to speak of her."

I was sure it did. Mother had a special place in her heart for my father’s ne’er do well cousin.

"This is what Adam writes about her…"

"Your grandmother was a wonderful woman, Adam. So kind, so loving. She adored her husband and her sons, and they for their part adored her."

I nodded, for I could always see that whenever Pa spoke of his mother. "But what was she like?"

Charlie leaned against the wall of the lighthouse, his rag hanging limply from his hand. "Kit was a little slip of a girl, but she was not to be taken lightly. If she believed in something, or someone, she did everything she could to fight for that cause or help that person."

"That sounds like another girl I know."

"Annie?" Charlie grinned. "If your stories and Ben’s letters are true, then you’re right. And I’m glad of it." Charlie’s smile faded, and he turned to look out the window. "When you’re old, Adam, and all the ones you loved in your youth are gone, you spend your time looking for them in the faces of the people around you." He nodded. "To know that Kit lives on in her granddaughter, well, it warms me."

He turned to face me, and I caught a glitter in his eye. His voice was thick as he continued his story.

"Kit was forever looking after strays, whether they be animals or people, something she taught her sons, I think. I was one of her strays, and whenever I was on shore, she insisted that I come to visit." Charlie stepped toward the enormous lens in the middle of the small room and resumed his polishing. "Adam, a bit of advice? When you do marry, make sure you marry someone who loves your family, not just you."

"That’s a long ways away, Charlie."

"I know. Abel’d have your hide if you didn’t finish school." He looked up at me. "I was lucky when Joe married Kit, because she quickly became as dear to me as he was.

"Now, Kit loved her sons; they were her pride and joy. She wasn’t above giving them a cuff if they needed it – and those three often needed it – and she certainly never questioned your grandfather’s right to be master of his house." Charlie paused in his work again, and I began to wonder if he’d ever finish cleaning the lens.

"I remember one time, I was visiting them in Plymouth. I had gone directly to Joe’s chandlery, and he and I walked home for supper. We were late, and he spent the entire walk home worrying that Kit would scold him. I, in turn, teased him, because she would never say a word about his tardiness and he knew it.

"We hurried into the kitchen and she was so happy to see me that she didn’t say anything about Joe being late. She handed me a plate and told me to set myself a place at the table. She had heard the boys finishing their chores just a few minutes earlier and she said she would call them to supper. Joe and I moved into the dining room and settled into our seats just as the three boys slunk into the room. Not a one of them would look at us, and that aggravated Joe, for he did not abide rudeness. But when he ordered them to look up, his aggravation gave way to anger, for each of them sported a bruise or cut that led us to know they had been fighting."

"That’s not good." And yet, knowing that Pa had been caught in a fight was curiously satisfying.

"No, no it wasn’t. Joe despised fighting." Charlie smirked. "Or, I should say, Joe despised fighting when he was an adult. He didn’t so much mind it when we were boys."

"Another trait my father shares with his father apparently." I grinned at Charlie’s raised eyebrow.

"I notice you say that when there’s a country between you and Ben." He rolled his eyes at my shrug. "At any rate, there were three boys, all under the age of thirteen, sitting at the supper table with a very cross father. I confess I found myself more than slightly amused, for I recalled when my cousin was the boy in trouble.

"But Joe glowered at his sons. ‘You three have been fighting.’ He stared at John, who quickly looked away. ‘I expect better of the lot of you, I truly do. I will not have my sons acting like hooligans in the streets of Plymouth.’ Not one boy would meet his eye. Finally he ended his lecture with ‘we shall finish this discussion in my study after supper. I am ashamed of you each.’ I could see each boy sink a little lower into his chair and I bit back a sigh. I had been looking forward to visiting with them after supper, but I knew how their evening would end.

"Well, he no sooner finished saying that than Kit entered the room with the large soup tureen. As she set it in front of her place, she smiled at the boys before settling into her seat. ‘Charlie,’ said she, ‘perhaps you would say grace for us.’

"Joe scowled, no doubt aggravated by her good humor in the face of the boys’ mischief, but he said nothing as we folded our hands and I asked the Lord’s blessing for our meal.

"’Charlie, have some of the lamb soup. I’m afraid it’s leftover from yesterday’s roast. I promise that tomorrow I shall make a supper fit to welcome you home with.’ She turned to the boys. ‘Edward, you’ll never get as big as John if you don’t take more food.’ And so she continued until Joe was eating his meal.

"I watched her watch her sons, a slight smile on her face. Finally she looked at Joe.

"’Joseph, I am sorry I was late to the table, but an interesting thing happened just before I was to come into the dining room. I heard a knock on the back door and when I opened it, Mrs. Keene was there, a pie in her hand. She came to thank our sons.’

"I was watching the boys while Kit spoke and they all three squirmed in their seats.

"’Indeed? And why would she wish to thank these three hooligans?’

"’Apparently her youngest daughter, Enid, was being bothered by two of the older apprentices from the blacksmith’s shop. They were behaving inappropriately toward her.’ Kit turned to me. ‘Enid is…’ She hesitated. ‘To put it kindly, Enid is slow in her mind and in her speech. But she is a sweet girl.’ Kit looked at Joe again. ‘Our sons insisted the apprentices stop. That is how they came to be bruised, by defending the defenseless.’

"Adam, your grandmother had this knack for correcting Joe in front of his sons without anyone thinking he had been wrong, Joe included. That evening, I watched Joe’s face go from a fierce scowl to a satisfied smile. He sat a little straighter and almost beamed at the boys.

‘And did you expect less of our sons, Kit? They are, after all, Cartwrights.’ Joe waved his fork toward Ed. ‘Finish quickly, Edward. The pie might still be warm.’ He turned his attention back to me. ‘Charlie, perhaps you might join the boys and I on a walk after supper to the harbor to see the new ships docked there.’

"Joe wasn’t the kind of father who could easily tell his sons that he was proud of them, but I could see it in each of them that the boys understood what he was saying. None of them spoke, of course, for Kit insisted on good manners for her children, but their grins lit their faces, and each of them sat a little straighter."

* * * * * * * * *

"Are you all right, Uncle Ben?" Annie set the book down and looked at me with concern. I could see Hoss and Joe looking at me, too, also obviously concerned.

I took a deep breath, hoping to steady my voice. "I’m fine, Annie. Just a little lost in the memories."

Joe looked at his hands. "It doesn’t get easier, does it, Pa? Not really anyway."

I leaned forward to touch him lightly. "No," I said softly. "No, I don’t suppose you ever stop missing your mother." Concerned that I’d dragged down everyone’s mood, I hastened to add, "But it’s like Charlie told Adam. You look for the ones who are gone in the faces of those who are here, and I see my mother – and my father – in each of you."

The clock chimed the hour, and I looked up, startled. "I didn’t realize it was so late. We’d better get to bed."

Three voices spoke. "One more story, please?" I couldn’t help but laugh at the memories that plea brought back.

"One more." I held up my hand in warning. "But only if you promise to get up cheerfully tomorrow morning."

Annie picked up the book again as Joe and Hoss laughed. "We promise, Uncle Ben." She found her place and smiled brightly. "This one is from Grandfather Stoddard."

All of my children refer to Abel as Grandfather. When Hoss had been younger, he declared that seeing as Adam was the only one with a living grandparent, he had to share. For his part, I think Abel was pleased to consider all my sons, and Ed’s daughter, his grandchildren, and he never sent a gift to Adam without sending a gift to all.

* * * * * * * *

"Why do you hear more stories, Adam? I thought you’d be sick of them by now."

I explained again to my grandfather that I was writing down the stories and sending them home as a Christmas present to my family. It was a bright, blue summer’s day in Boston as Grandfather and I walked to the chandlery. I’ve almost gotten used to walking, although I’d rather be riding. Still, walking to work with Grandfather gave us time to spend talking about something other than the chandlery or my chances of being admitted to Harvard.

Grandfather nodded. "All right, let me think a minute." He was quiet for so long that I began to wonder if we’d get to the chandlery before he began, but suddenly he stopped by a bench. "Here’s a good place to sit a moment. My old legs are tired, and I can’t keep up with you."

I rolled my eyes, for he was forever complaining about some old part of him that couldn’t keep up with me.

"You’ve never told me yet if Benjamin tolerates that infernal expression of yours. I’ll be disappointed if you tell me he does, though. Heaven knows I didn’t tolerate it from him. Joe didn’t either."

Grandfather pulled his pipe from his pocket and set about lighting it. When he was all set, he looked at me. "Have I told you how the Stoddards and Cartwrights became friends?"

"You told me that you sailed with my great-uncle John when you were a boy." I rested my arm along the back of the bench as Grandfather nodded.

"Aye, I did do that. John was mate on board the second ship that I sailed on, and he took pity on me. By that I mean he made sure the other sailors didn’t pester me much, for I was only a boy, and he looked out for me on shore leave. I suppose you could say he treated me like a younger brother.

"Anyway, I sailed with him for a year. When we finally landed back in Boston, I found that my mother had remarried, and her new husband didn’t seem to have much use for me. He was happy enough when I gave my mother my earnings, but he was even happier to have me keep sailing. Again I sailed with John, and he continued to look out for me.

"The next year when we came to port, I learned that my mother had moved with her husband and my sisters, including a new half-sister, out to Ohio." Grandfather was very still for a moment. "I never saw my mother again. I tried writing to the last address I had for her, but I never received a reply."

I touched his shoulder lightly, and he turned to me. "It was a long time ago, Adam. I’ve put it behind me." But I could see the glimmer in his eye that gave lie to his words.

"So there I was, fifteen or so, not a family to be had. That’s when John really took me in. He was married to May by then, and he had his boys. Whenever we were in port, John insisted that I come home with him. May always welcomed me, and I came to regard the boys as the younger brothers I would never have. I grieved with him when he mourned the loss of his only brother. That, of course was when John was given his nephew to raise. He decided he needed to stay on land with his family, and for the first time since I met him, I sailed without my friend.

"But we remained good friends. His sons and his nephew sailed with me for a while when they were old enough, and I was able to return the favors I owed my friend. I visited John and May every time I could, and it was one of those times that I met, courted and married your grandmother. John was by my side as I stood in the church that day.

"Finally I became master of my own ship and your grandmother began sailing with me. Of course by then, your mother was a baby and she sailed with me, too. I didn’t see John for several years, although we wrote as frequently as we could. I saw him again the year your grandmother and mother stopped sailing with me."

Grandfather paused a moment. "That was the same year that your father met your mother." He shrugged. "I began to spend my Christmases in port whenever I could, and we often spent them at the Cape with John and his family. May’s people were English, as were my wife’s, and they both loved the Christmas tradition. Christmas wasn’t too popular amongst the Calvinists of New England."

He tapped his pipe against his heel. "I remember one Christmas, I think it was the last Christmas we were all together. Well, except for Will; he had been lost in the war already, although John wouldn’t admit that." Grandfather’s voice trailed off and I thought again how awful it would be to not know my brothers’ fates.

"It was the Christmas after John – that is, your uncle John, Ben’s brother – began sailing with me. We weren’t expected at the Cape that year, but I thought it would be a wonderful surprise, and judging by the look on Kit’s face, I had brought her the greatest gift she could ever receive." Grandfather grinned. "Your poor uncle was mortified by her affection, and finally Joe had to step in and suggest that other people might wish to greet the boy."

I nodded, remembering Ma’s reaction when I returned home on Christmas Eve after spending several months away. "Mothers are like that." I wished I could take the words back the moment I spoke them, but Grandfather patted my leg in comfort.

"Adam, never doubt for a minute that I am happy that you have known a mother’s love. And never doubt that your mother would have wanted it to be that way." He smiled. "You know, that Christmas was the first time I ever spent any great time in your father’s company. I had, of course, heard more about him than any father could hope to hear, for every letter from Elizabeth had at least one story about how clever Ben was, or how strong, or how brave. Imagine my surprise when that paragon of virtue proved to be a very mischievous thirteen year old."

Of course, I had to know what Grandfather meant by that, and so I pressed him. "Mischievous?"

Grandfather wagged his finger at me. "Obviously a trait he has passed on to his oldest son."

"And his middle and youngest." I grinned. "How was he mischievous?"

"Did I mention cheeky as well?" He shook his head. "Let me think a moment. I’m sure you’ll want to include this with your letter home." He grinned suddenly. "In fact, it might be just the story for Ben to hear, by way of reminder.

"Joe and I had gone for a walk; he was anxious to know how his eldest son had acquitted himself as a sailor. I, for my part, had been very impressed with John. He was as natural a sailor as his great-uncle, and I told Joe that. I knew that Joe hated the idea of the boy sailing, but even he had to admit how well John looked. He even confided that Ben was hoping to sail someday.

"I had just assured Joe that Ben would also have a place on board my ship when we heard a raucous laughter and girlish giggling. We were far from the house, and I was fairly certain we were outside the bounds that Joe had set for the boys earlier that morning. But sure enough, as we walked toward the clearing, we came across Ben and Elizabeth on a small ice-covered pond. They had skates and he was holding both her hands, leading her across the ice. He was facing her, and the two were very close, their bodies almost touching. As we reached the edge of the pond, the two of them stumbled and landed in a heap.

"Ben scrambled to his feet as best he could when he saw the look on his father’s face and he reached down to help Elizabeth stand. The boy held out his hand in supplication.

"‘Mother gave her permission, Father. I asked her if we could go skating, and I told her we’d have to go further than you said we might.’

"Joe looked furious. ‘Are you telling me that your mother gave you permission to go off in the woods alone with a young lady? I find that difficult to believe.’"

Grandfather grinned, and I had to smile, too, as I thought how much Pa had taken after his own father.

"Poor Ben. I watched his face drain of all color, and he stood silent, only shaking his head for a moment. Finally he was able to speak.

"’No, we’re not alone, sir, honest.’ He gestured toward the large rock behind them. ‘Eddie’s over there.’

"As though called, Ed stepped from behind the rock buttoning his trousers. ‘Hey, Ben, I had to p-’ He stopped short when he saw the two of us. ‘Father, we have permission to be here.’

"I began to have a new appreciation for how strict Joe must be. He nodded and called Eddie to his side. As the two spoke earnestly, Elizabeth insisted on showing me how well she could skate. I was impressed, and told her so. She ducked her head and then grabbed Ben’s hand to pull him forward. ‘Ben is teaching me, Papa.’

"’Is he now?’ I gave him a dark look and he quickly tugged his hand free of hers. ‘Make sure you two don’t go off skating alone.’ Ben shook his head furiously. ‘No sir, we won’t do that.’

"Whatever else he was going to say was cut short when Joe and Ed returned. Joe gave Ed a slight push so the boy was standing in front of me. I listened as the boy stammered through an apology for allowing Elizabeth to see him buttoning his trousers and for speaking crudely in front of her."

Grandfather stretched his legs. "That was the year I first realized I was losing my little girl to the Cartwrights. But, as I watched the three brothers together, I decided that she could do worse than to be with one of them." He laughed abruptly. "They were always joking and teasing each other. I remember on Christmas Day, Eddie found the penny in the pudding. Except he swallowed it. Ben leaned over and I could hear him whisper ‘Well, you’ve still got it. You just won’t be able to spend it ‘til later.’ I thought May was going to break her spoon, she whacked your father so hard with it. But I gave the boy a wink, and he had the audacity to wink back at me."

I scrambled to my feet as Grandfather stood. He turned and put his hand around the back of my neck, and he pulled me close to him.

"You know, Adam, I was heartened that day. If my daughter was going to have to fall in love, I was glad it was with Ben."

* * * * * * * * *

I sighed as I thought of my father-in-law. He was an old rapscallion, but he was family, and he had been long before I married his daughter. He could make a boy’s life miserable if that boy made a mistake on board ship, but neither my brothers nor I doubted the affection he had for us. As much as I missed Adam, I was glad that Abel was getting to know his grandson.

I shooed my children off to bed, and sat staring into the fire. I don’t know how long I sat there as my mind drifted back through the years, to my childhood in Plymouth and on the Cape, to my youth in Boston, my years at sea. I thought of the people I loved then, people all gone now, save three. Abel, Charlie and John were my connections to the past.

I stirred when I heard the bunkroom door open, and I turned to see Hoss, in his nightshirt, glide across the room to the hutch. He stopped, and poured two glasses of brandy before settling onto the sofa by my side.

I took the proffered glass. "You’re sure of yourself tonight, son." I was amused at his boldness and I smiled as he winked.

"Thought you might like some company. You were looking a little down when I said goodnight."

"I was thinking, Hoss, that’s all." I groaned; I didn’t mean to say that.

Hoss grinned. "Well, Pa, don’t let me stop you from thinking." His smile faded. "I just was wonderin’ if maybe all those stories make you miss your folks."

I nodded. "I suppose maybe they did a bit, but you know what? It’s like Charlie said. When the people you love are gone, you spend your time looking for them in the faces of those who remain." I sipped my brandy. "I’ve always seen your mothers every time I look at each of you boys." Hoss smirked as I leaned back and propped my stocking feet on the table. "But listening to these stories makes me realize that I don’t just see your mothers in your faces. Every time I see you adopting a stray animal, or helping someone in need, I see my mother. Whenever I watched Adam reading, or working over the books, I thought of my father." I smiled. "Annie, well, she’s your grandmother all over again. Quick to stand up for what she believes in, ready to fight for her family. She has Eddie’s temper, of course, and he inherited that from my father." I grinned. "I know, we all did."

Glancing at the bunkroom door, I sighed. "And Joe. His love of mischief is my father’s all over again. I didn’t see it much until I was a little older and Father began to show it to us boys. I’m glad I’m seeing it now in his grandson. Joe’s laugh is so much like my father’s." Truly it was, and it’s funny that I never made that connection until tonight. I looked at my son.

"You know, someday one of your children, or maybe even of your grandchildren, is going to do something, and you’ll grin and think of me." Surprisingly, that thought gave me a great deal of comfort. Not a bad legacy for a man, to live on in his children.

I slapped Hoss on the knee as I stood. "C’mon, let’s go to bed. I’m looking forward to reading more stories tomorrow."