The Kite

By Marion and Nancy

The Ponderosa and the Cartwrights are not ours. Thank you to Mr. Dortort for allowing us 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.

[Hoss]

I guess you could say it all started the night Hop Sing told us about flying kites in China. I don’t mean to sound like that it’s his fault, cuz it isn’t. How could he know what was gonna happen?

We were sitting at the supper table and Pa had just finished telling us about how he and his brother and father used to fly kites on the beach when he was a boy. Hop Sing nodded like he does some times.

"In China, when I was a boy…" Hop Sing don’t talk much about China, so when he does, we take notice. I could see Joe outta the corner of my eye. He was leaning forward, his mouth hanging’ open. Pa nudged him, to remind him to eat. Me, I don’t understand why Joe can’t eat and listen at the same time.

"When I was a boy, we had many kites. Every year, village had contest for best kite – one that is most beautiful, one that fly highest. One year, Father help Hop Sing to build kite like eagle." Hop Sing paused, to think back, maybe. Then he smiled. "That year, we win."

"Golly, Hop Sing, whadya win?" Joe was just about busting out of his seat, he was that excited.

Hop Sing glanced at his plate. "Most important prize of all, Little Joe." Hop Sing looked my brother right in the eye. "Won praise from Father."

Joe looked disappointed, but me and Adam, we knew what he meant. I glanced at Pa and he smiled at me. That was a mighty big prize to me.

Funny thing about Hop Sing. He comes from a different country, but he thinks like us. Pa would say he values the same things we do. I reckon that’s why we get on so well.

Adam sat a minute before he started firing questions at Hop Sing. What were the kites made of, what did they look like, things only Adam’d need to know.

According to Hop Sing, the kites were usually made of silk or paper, and they often looked like birds, or fish or even dragons. He said they were always colorful.

"Golly." Joe sat back in his chair. "Who’da thought they had kites in China?"

Pa tapped Joe’s plate again, and my brother leaned forward to eat some more. "Well, Joseph, many people think that kites were originally from China. Certainly I never saw more beautiful kites than the ones I saw when I visited that country." I expect Pa’s been just about everywhere in the world, or at least, that’s how it seems.

Joe finished his supper and looked around the table. "We outghta have a kite making contest. We could make ‘em and Hop Sing could be the judge."

Hop Sing grinned slightly, but he shook his head. "No paper, no silk."

Joe sat back again, looking real discouraged. He knew as well as the rest of us that we didn’t have the money for buying things to make kites. We learned long ago not to ask, not on accounta Pa would get angry, but on accounta he’d get sad.

Dang it, I hated to see my little brother disappointed. I caught Adam’s eye and he nodded like he knew what I was thinking. We must have enough between us to buy the paper and string and stuff we’d need.

Pa surprised us, though. "It’s been a long winter, and a busy spring. You boys have earned some fun." He leaned forward, his arms resting on the table. "Joseph, how about you and I go into town tomorrow when the morning chores are done. We can buy the supplies we need, and have our contest on Sunday. We’ll have a picnic by the lake."

Joe’s eyes went wide. "It’ll be us five, right Pa? Only Cartwrights, no dumb girls?"

Pa nodded and winked at Hop Sing. "Just the five Cartwrights, Little Joe."

Joe didn’t stop talking about that kite making contest all evening. He kept talking about building a kite that looked just like an eagle, or a fish and he kept saying he was going to win the contest. He was putting such store by winning that Pa was starting to look worried.

"You know, Adam," Pa said in that slow way he has sometimes. "I was thinking about this contest. I was thinking, it’s not fair to Hoss and to Joe."

Adam looked up from his newspaper. "Oh?"

Joe and I were at the little table playing checkers. Joe was sitting with his back to Pa, so he couldn’t see Pa’s face, but I could. Pa looked at Adam and nodded toward Joe. "Well, son, I’ve made kites before, and I seem to remember you making kites once, but Hoss and Joe never have. It doesn’t seem to be fair to them."

Now, I gotta explain something about Pa. I know some fathers, if they were in a contest with their sons, they’d go easy and maybe let the son win. But not our pa. He’s real keen on winning, and he never cuts us any slack. He says it’s for our own good, but Adam and me figure he plain hates to lose. I’d be lying if I said that any of us liked to lose. I can’t think of a single time my father or my brother let me win a game. And that may sound bad, like they’re mean, but I don’t think I ever felt so proud as when I first beat Adam at a game, cuz I knew I won it fair and square.

Adam seemed to know what Pa was thinking, cuz he smiled. "You know, Pa, I was thinking the same thing. Tell you what – we’ll do teams. I’ll take Joe, and you and Hoss can work together."

"I think that’s an excellent idea, Adam." Pa smiled and looked back at his paper.

Joe turned to look at Pa at that, and then turned back to me, real worried. We knew this was going to turn into Pa against Adam. Now, Pa hated to lose, and Adam hated to lose, but even more than that, they hated to lose to each other. Ma used to get so angry at them both if they were competing against each other. She would holler that they were ruthless, and they really were. Joe and I could only hope that we survived this contest. Even Hop Sing looked concerned. But there was no backing out now.

Adam yawned. "You know, Pa, we could make it interesting."

Joe looked panicked. I wasn’t feeling much calmer.

"How’s that, son?"

"Well, we could put a little bet on it." Adam raised his hand to stop Pa. "Not a real bet, Pa, a bet bet."

Pa considered for a minute. "All right. Let’s say the losing team does all the barn chores for a week."

Adam and Pa shook on it, like me and Joe weren’t even in the room. Dang, it was going to be a long time til Sunday.

[Adam]

As soon as Hoss’ snores settled into a regular pattern, I propped myself on my right elbow on my mattress and whispered, "Are you awake?"

The pile of blankets in the bunk across from mine shifted and then Joe’s face peeked out. He rolled his eyes. "If you don’t get to sleep before Hoss then you don’t get to sleep."

I threw back my covers and swung my legs over the edge of the bunk. "We need to work on strategy," I said softly as I pulled on my pants. "Let’s talk in the barn."

I don’t know if Joe was interested in talking strategy but the idea of sneaking out of the house in the dark was a temptation he couldn’t refuse. We each wrapped a blanket around our shoulders and then Joe followed me, doing everything exactly the way I did, including hitting the toe of his boot on the front porch bench.

The noise sent Scout into a range of barks that were as sharp as they were loud. Joe and I flattened against the side of the house, squatting down so we couldn’t be seen from the windows, while I held Scout’s muzzle. When we were sure that no one was stirring, we ran to the barn, shown the way by the lavender light of a full moon.

We took Scout with us.

When we were seated cross-legged across from each other on a bed of straw, Joe flung his arms wide. "I wanna make the biggest kite ever."

Scout stretched out, groaned, and rested his head on his front paws.

"We need to make the lightest kite, ever," I pointed out, "so it will go faster and higher than Pa’s."

"And Hoss’."

"Right." I leaned my forearms on my knees. "The thing is, it needs to be strong, too."

Joe frowned and I could tell the concept was not registering.

"What you need to do tomorrow, when Pa and you go to town," I said, silently praying that Joe would remember my instructions, "is buy the strongest fabric you can find. And it needs to be light."

Joe leaned his head to one side and asked, "How much cloth do you figure it’ll take to make a monster?"

I was thinking more of a hawk. "What kind of . . . monster?"

Joe leaned closer, his eyes bright with the light of the lantern that flickered between us like a small campfire. "Like the lake monster."

"Joe, that was . . . something like that won’t fly."

"It floated, didn’t it?"

"That’s different."

Joe crossed his arms. "How?"

I was not going to spend precious time explaining something that Joe wouldn’t understand anyhow. "It just is. Besides, we don’t want the kite to be all one piece."

"Adam," Joe said as if I were a simpleton, "a broken kite won’t fly."

I resisted the urge to tell him I knew that—after all, I had been making kites long before Joe was born. Instead, I focused on sharing the benefit of my experience. "It needs to be pieces that are tied together." Another frown from Joe. I looked around for something to illustrate my point and finally decided on three horseshoes. I plucked them from the pile by the workbench and returned to sit beside my little assistant. "Here," I said as I twisted one horseshoe to stand on its ends in the straw. "Pretend this one is the monster’s head. We tie the string that we’ll be holding to the sides and front of his face." I twisted the second horseshoe into the straw behind the first one. "We make this piece a diamond. We tie string from the back of the head to the front of this piece." I stood the third horseshoe a short distance behind the second one. "And now we tie a string from the back of the second piece to the front of the third one. And we keep doing that until it’s as long as we want."

"Like a worm!" Joe shouted. Scout raised his head and barked. Joe whispered, "Like a worm."

I think I said, "Huh?"

"Like a worm," Joe said softly. "You know how if you look at a worm up close you can see there are a bunch of parts to him?"

I trusted Joe on that, having never examined a worm to that extent. "Right," I said as if I knew what he was talking about. "And when the kite is flying, each of these pieces will move and it will look like the monster is twisting."

Joe squinted. "Will it go high?"

I grinned. "That’s the beauty of this." I leaned so close to his side that he could hear me whisper. "The kite will be long so the highest point will be the tip of it and we can beat Pa."

"And Hoss."

"Right. Pa will be looking at the face, not noticing how high the tail is, and—" I held my arms up in victory, "I’ll win."

"We’ll win."

"Right. And it will be great to beat Pa. You know how he hates to lose."

"Yeah, I know how he hates to lose."

If I didn’t know Joe better, I would have thought he was being sarcastic.

The next morning, after early chores and breakfast, Pa and Joe were ready to go to town and buy what we would need to make our kites.

"Remember, the fabric has to be light and it has to be strong," I said to Joe as we hitched the team.

He rolled his eyes. Joe has a lamentable habit of rolling his eyes. "Light. Yeah. I remember."

As soon as Pa and Joe left, with Joe driving, I suggested that Hoss and I do our chores together. "They always go faster when there’s someone to talk to," I pointed out.

Hoss raised his head and looked at me from the sides of his eyes. "It ain’t gonna work."

"What?" I laughed and tried to look innocent.

"You’re thinking that me and you’ll do chores and you’ll find out from me what Pa’s got planned." Hoss raised a shovel and propped it on his right shoulder. "It ain’t gonna work."

I directed the conversation toward the weather and then deftly talked about wind and how high the leaves blew in the autumn. I asked if Hoss thought a leaf shape would be good for a kite. He observed that we hadn’t had rain in a week and wondered if that was some sort of record.

I mentioned how the difference in a hawk’s wing and an owl’s wing allowed one to fly quickly and the other to fly silently. I asked Hoss if he thought a hawk shape or more of an owl shape would fly faster in a kite. He told me about the time he saw a hawk swoop out of the sky and grab a fish out of the lake and how glad he was the fish hadn’t been on his hook because that hawk would have hauled off Hoss’ fishing pole, too.

So, as we rode back from checking the cattle and the grasses down by the creek, I turned the topic to the upcoming Spring Dance. I slyly mentioned how pretty Tess’ dress had been at the Christmas Dance at Greene Valley. I said I wondered if it had been cotton or silk. It seemed that cotton would hold a seam better but silk would make the dress lighter and more comfortable to wear. Hoss said the best he could remember he thought Tess had said something about it being made out of taffy but it hadn’t been sticky at all.

Finally, out of desperation, because I was determined to find out what Pa intended to use for his kite’s frame, I mused about whether the women in Eagle Station were still using whale bones for corset stays or if they’d found some kind of lighter wood to serve the same purpose. Hoss wobbled in his saddle a minute and asked how I knew anything about a woman’s . . . those things. I kept my mouth shut the remainder of the ride home.

But when I arrived home, and saw the wagon, my mood lightened. Joe was back with the fabric and the twine. I had already decided which plants we could use to make dyes and I also had the oil paints that I had bought. I could paint intricate designs on the dragon and there was no chance that Pa could do that. Pa did well to draw a recognizable stick. Not only would I have the highest-flying kite, I would have the best looking.

Joe and I, of course.

Joe waved his arm for me to follow him into the barn and then he opened a tack box.

"What kind of fabric did you get?" I asked eagerly.

"The lightest there was," Joe said with a giggle. "Pa said he didn’t think it would work but I told him that me and you had it all figured out." With that, my little brother turned and proudly showed me the folded yardage.

My knees buckled. I leaned back against the nearest stall. "Joe . . . that’s wagon canvas."

"I know," he said proudly. "And it’s the lightest color there was."

[Joe]

Brothers! Sometimes I just don’t get ‘em! When I showed Adam the fabric I bought, he got all purple in the face and he started sputtering. Then, he stopped talkin’ and his jaw went to the left, and he looked so much like Pa that I jumped back.

"Of all the stupid, idiotic…!" Adam threw the fabric across the barn and then he took a step toward me. I kept backin’ up. "I didn’t mean light not dark, I meant light not heavy!"

I didn’t know what he was talkin’ about, but I know that when he’s talkin’ like that, it’s best just to nod and to get away as fast as I could. But I didn’t have to go nowhere, on accounta he went stormin’ from the barn and right into the house. I followed, just to see what he was doin’.

I stood by the open window. I couldn’t see what was happenin’, but I could sure hear it.

"You did this on purpose!" Adam was hollerin’ at someone. I hoped it wasn’t Pa he was talkin’ to like that.

"I beg your pardon?" Pa’s voice was quiet and you’d think Adam’d know that what Pa was really saying was that Adam’d better watch his tone. The kite contest might be fun, but Pa wasn’t gonna tolerate disrespect on account of it.

"You let Joe buy that fabric knowing full well it’ll never fly!" I heard the sound of a chair scraping, and I wondered what Adam was doin’, but I fer sure didn’t want to get caught eavesdropping so I didn’t look in the window.

"Are you saying I cheated, son?"

Even Adam understood that tone. "No, I’m not saying that, Pa. I’m just…" The chair scraped again. "Oh, never mind. I’m going to town, I might not be home for supper."

I could hear Adam stormin’ across the room. I scrambled to get off the porch, and I ran smack into Hoss. He held his finger to his lip and pulled me to the side of the house. We watched Adam almost run to the barn.

I looked at Hoss and he shook his head slowly. "I heard that all the way in the barn," he said, rolling his eyes.

I leaned against the woodshed. "I hate these contests." I crossed my arms and glared at Adam, leading Beauty from the barn. He didn’t take notice of me – why should he, we’re only partners – and he headed toward the road.

Hoss shook his head again. "I know what you mean, little brother. Pa won’t even tell me what he’s thinking of doing. I bet he’s afraid I’ll let it slip to Adam."

"Yeah, and Adam’s all fired up on accounta he says I bought the wrong fabric. How was I supposed to know? He kept saying light. He didn’t say nothing about weight."

"That’s just like him. Giving bad directions and then blaming you." Hoss leaned one arm against the shed and glanced down at me.

"Hey, Hoss, I got a ‘spiration." And I did, a good one.

Hoss tilted his head back. Ever since Pa got angry and restricted us to the yard the last time I got an idea, Hoss hasn’t been too willing to listen to me. But this one couldn’t fail. I looked around to make sure Pa wasn’t outside, and I beckoned Hoss to come closer.

"Well, Adam’s not gonna let me help, and I bet Pa doesn’t let you help. So let’s make a kite together, and show ‘em we know what we’re doing."

Hoss grinned. "Yeah. Yeah, I think that’s a good idea. Only we won’t tell ‘em what we’re doing. We’ll surprise ‘em on Sunday."

I puffed up. That was a good plan. Only…

"Hoss, what are we gonna use for materials? Pa’s not gonna let us go into town alone."

Hoss rubbed his hand on his chin, then snapped his fingers. "Paper." He nodded. "Yeah, Hop Sing said kites could be made of paper. We can use the old newspapers."

Adam kept all the old papers piled in a corner of the bunkroom, I don’t know why. He’ll never notice if we take a few of the old ones.

"But, Hoss, it won’t be real nice looking if we use newspapers."

"You let me worry about that, little brother." Hoss grinned again. "Now, we can’t let on to Pa and Adam that we’re workin’ together, so you’ll have to help Adam still, and I’ll keep working with Pa."

I rolled my eyes. I was pretty sure that I wasn’t going to get near the kite that Adam was building.

I was right. Adam came home after supper with a bundle that he stashed in his trunk in the bunkroom. We were supposed to be working on our kites together the next couple of days, but he kept shooing me away. I woulda complained to Pa, but Hoss said Pa was doing the same thing to him, so we worked together on our kite instead. Pa and Adam were so busy they never even noticed we weren’t with them.

I noticed something real funny this week, too. Now Pa always expects us to be polite to Hop Sing, and to help him whenever we can. And Pa doesn’t tell us to act one way and then he acts another, so he’s always real polite to Hop Sing. But this week he was even more polite, and he and Adam kept fighting over who could help Hop Sing with chores. I don’t know what they were up to, but Hop Sing kept shaking his head.

[Ben]

It occurred to me the first evening I was working on my kite how much I assume about life. Without a second thought, I trust that the sun will rise in the morning, that the stars will come out at night, and that Hop Sing will always provide whatever we need whenever we need it. In fact, I was ashamed at how much I had taken my friend for granted.

I determined to let Hop Sing know how much I appreciated his efforts. And since actions speak louder than words, I set about making his work load a little lighter. What I did was paltry compared to the grueling schedule this young man—whom I look upon as a son—keeps each day. But I endeavored to provide whatever assistance I could, however small.

What I had never noticed until I was with Hop Sing more was how conniving my eldest son is. Though it pains me to say this, for I loved his mother dearly, his scheming and faintly devious manner comes straight down from the Stoddard side of the family. I watched in astonishment as he attempted to ingratiate himself with Hop Sing. No task was too tedious. No job was below him. No chore took too much time or too much effort. And he was solicitous of my friend’s well being in a manner that was as obvious as it was embarrassing.

Where on earth, I wondered, could a son of mine have seen such an example of attempting to curry the favor of a person for one’s own best interests?

For though it pains me to admit this, that is what Adam was doing. Every time he managed to do something for Hop Sing before I could, each time he thought of something a second before I did, whenever he had completed a chore for Hop Sing that I had intended to do—absolutely every single time, Adam gave me a sly smile and raised his eyebrows. I didn’t doubt for a moment what he was up to. And he knew that I knew what he was up to.

I was certain, too, that Adam’s behavior was designed to distract me from the kite contest.

He underestimated me.

I doubt that the men who orchestrated the purchase of Louisiana conducted their daily activities with higher secrecy that I was able to achieve as I guided my kite plans from thoughts, to drawings, to calculations, to reality. And though Hoss—who was supposed to be my partner in the endeavor—lost interest early in the game, I was resolved that when I won the kite contest I would share the glory with him. Only a small man would do less.

As to the design of my kite, I was reasonably sure—knowing Joseph—that Adam and his kite would be large. My youngest son loves to dream big and I am not about to discourage him. But I also knew that Adam, being the more practical of the two, would want a kite that was lightweight and consequently would be both faster and climb higher. What I was sure Adam hadn’t counted on was my knowledge of cloth and wind gained from my years working with sails at sea. There is a reason a ship is rigged with different sized and shaped sails. Undoubtedly, Adam would be determined to have a kite like a hawk or an owl or some other feathered flyer. I, on the other hand, planned to make use of several smaller kites attached to one another. I would make a six-part dragon.

I couldn’t wait to see the look on Adam’s face on Sunday.

[Hop Sing]

I knew from moment Mr. Cartwright and Adam decide to make teams for contest that they would not include Little Joe and Hoss. Both Mr. Cartwright and his oldest son are honorable men, and I am fortunate they are my employers and my friends, but I have seen this competitive nature in them before. They often turn smallest tasks into contests.

I did not know how they would treat me because I am judge for contest, but I should have known. Mr. Cartwright always behave with great respect and kindness to me, and his sons also treat me thus, but during the week of the contest, Mr. Cartwright and Adam went out of way to help me. They argued over who will help with my chores, they insisted on cleaning the kitchen. They even tried to cook meals, but I…what is the expression?…I put my foot down and do not permit this foolishness.

At first I enjoyed the attempts to curry my favor, but soon I grew weary of the arguments. I noticed Little Joe and Hoss also growing weary, but soon I noticed they were keeping some secret from family.

The day of the contest dawned early and everyone hurried through chores so we could ride to lake. When we arrived, I could tell it was perfect day for kite flying. The sky was blue and the wind was blowing as it should, not too strong, not too weak. Family first paid respects to Mrs. Cartwright, as they always do when we come here. I waited by wagon until they were done, so as to not intrude on private grief. I will pay my respects to this most gracious lady later, when family is done.

Soon Mr. Cartwright and his sons unloaded bundles from wagon. Both Mr. Cartwright and Adam turned when Hoss and Little Joe remove a small bundle of their own.

"What’s that?" Mr. Cartwright gestured toward package with his chin.

Hoss scuff dirt with his toe. "It’s a kite, Pa."

"A kite?" Mr. Cartwright tilted his head back. "I thought we were partners."

"So did I, Pa, but well, sir, you wouldn’t let me help."

"I wouldn’t let you help?" Mr. Cartwright’s eyes narrowed. "Every time I wanted to work on it, you weren’t around."

Hoss shrugged but said no more.

"I suppose you helped him, Little Joe." Adam glared at his little brother.

"Yeah, well, it’s like Hoss said, you wouldn’t let me help." Little Joe stood holding package with both hands.

"I bet you told him our secrets." Adam shook his head.

"What secrets? You didn’t tell me nothing!"

"We were partners, Joe."

Little Joe started to speak, but shook his head and turned to Hoss. They went behind the wagon to unwrap the kite.

Mr. Cartwright and Adam watched them walk away, then shrugged and turned away from each other to unwrap their kites.

All three kites were presented to me for judging. I looked at Mr. Cartwright’s first. It was a dragon kite, made of six parts. It was painted with many colors, just as the ones of my childhood. I complimented him, but he does not seem happy. I turned to look at Adam’s and I saw why Mr. Cartwright was displeased. Adam, too, created a dragon kite of six parts.

Father and son stood, glaring at each other, while I admired Adam’s kite. Adam is better artist, so his painting was better than Mr. Cartwright’s, but otherwise the kites were the same.

I looked last at the kite made by Hoss and Little Joe. It was…I must be kind…not attractive. They took two stick and newspaper, and tied rags on the end for a tail. They tried to paint the newspaper, but it looked more like the paint was spilled by accident. They looked at me with hopeful expressions.

"All kites are very beautiful, but true test is in flying." I gestured to them, and they spread out along the beach. Mr. Cartwright was furthest from me, then Adam and then Little Joe and Hoss. All kites flew beautifully, for a minute. Then disaster struck.

Mr. Cartwright and Adam were not paying attention to how they run, and they ran toward each other. I watched in disbelief as strings cross and the two kites twine together. Both men tried frantically to separate kites, but before they could, the kites blow out across lake. They were very beautiful together, but soon a piece of Adam’s kite came apart and fell into the water. But kites stayed up.

Suddenly, a golden eagle swept across sky and attacked kites. I could see his fierce beak ripping at the cloth, and his talons tearing the fabric. The kites could not withstand this attack, and despite the frenzied efforts of Mr. Cartwright and of Adam, the kites plummeted to the lake. We watched as they bobbed on the surface before they sank and we could see them no more.

I tried hard to not laugh at Mr. Cartwright. He stood with shoulders slumped and head downcast. He looked much like his youngest son does when Little Joe is in trouble. Adam reacted much differently. He pulled his hat off and threw it to the ground. He turned to his father and pointed. I could not hear his words, but I could tell he was blaming his father for the destruction of the kites. Mr. Cartwright stepped close to his son, and the two argued for several minutes before they both throw their hands in the air and turned away.

I watched the two men so closely that I forgot about Hoss and Little Joe, until Little Joe’s shout drew my attention. The two brothers had their kite as high as one of the Ponderosa pines that flank the beach. The excitement on their faces was apparent. I saw Mr. Cartwright turn and look at the kite; he nudged Adam slightly and Adam, too, turned to look at the boys. The two men smiled and we all hurried to where Little Joe and Hoss were standing.

"I declare that this kite is the winner of the Cartwright kite flying contest!" I smiled at the boys.

Adam leaned toward me. "You mean the first annual Cartwright kite flying contest."

I glared at eldest son. "First and last annual Cartwright kite flying contest!" I turned to Hoss and Little Joe. "I have pie for winners."

Adam looked chagrined, but Mr. Cartwright laughed. He slapped Hoss on the back and ruffled Little Joe’s hair. "I guess you showed us, didn’t you, boys? You did a good job, and I’m proud of you."

Adam nodded as he tugged slightly on his ear. "Yeah, I am, too. Good job."

Hoss and Little Joe both stood straighter, and I knew that Little Joe understand that praise from father – and brother – is greatest prize of all. But he would not be Little Joe if he did not laugh at them both.

"Ya know, Hoss, I’m gonna enjoy a week of no barn chores!"

The End