howdy! below is my latest bonanza fic, a story which i openly admit is really just a vehicle to present my favorite headcanons and talk about some of my favorite tidbits from canon. it can also be read on ao3 if you’re a registered user!
content/trigger warnings: canon typical violence and canonical character deaths. references to rabies and the killing of a rabid wolf. discussion of poverty, food insecurity, and a parent going without food to see his child does not go hungry. relatedly, weight gain is discussed as a normal, healthy, positive thing. illusions to fatphobia and references to childhood bullies. vague mentions of alcohol/sex. let me know if anything should be altered/added here.
summary: a sleepless night and an old childhood game permit the brothers some time to bond. 12,000 words.
i hope you enjoy! likes, reblogs, kudos, comments, bookmarks, etc are all greatly appreciated, and thank you for reading! 🏜️
the favorites game
“Anyone asleep?”
A sarcastic snort from Joe followed Hoss’ question. “No. Adam? You awake?”
“No. Go back to sleep.”
Hoss lay on his bedroll, staring up at the stars, and then shifted uncomfortably; he reached under the wool padding and blindly felt around before pulling out the rock that had started to dig into his back.
“I can’t sleep,” Joe complained.
“Try harder,” Adam replied.
Hoss yawned, tired as the rest of them, but sleep wouldn’t come. It wasn’t that they’d seen too much in the last week and he was afraid of nightmares or anything like that. It was the average hunt for a wolf picking off strays, save for the fact that all three had come.
Normally a two person job, their Pa had been concerned when he heard about a rabid wolf in the area; such a danger, as infrequent as it was, called for a third pair of eyes. Pa seemed willing to join them himself, but someone had to stay to tend to the ranch.
They put the poor sick wolf out of its misery, Hoss regretting the whole matter, but knowing anything else would be cruel; they couldn’t allow it to continue to suffer or let it put other animals and people at risk.
“C’mon, I’m bored,” Joe said. He sprawled dramatically, eagle spread with his arms and legs off his bedroll. “Hoss, tell a story or something.”
“Adam’s the storyteller, you know that Joe.” Hoss propped himself up on his elbow and looked over at Adam. His older brother was certainly just as wide awake as he and Joe were; his eyes remained closed and he lay still, not tossing and turning, but the tiny smirk at the corner of his mouth was proof his resolve was crumbling. “Hey, Adam, why don’t we play the favorites game?”
“You mean what Pa plays with Joe?” Adam teased idly.
“Hey!” Joe protested. “You know that ain’t so, Pa doesn’t have favorites!”
Adam’s smirk turned into a laugh. “I know that, Joe, I’m sorry for joshing ya.” He sat up, cross-legged with his feet beneath him, pulling his blanket around his shoulders. “That’s a good thought, Hoss, we haven’t played that in years.”
Joe sat up too, hugging his knees to his chest. “How do we play?”
“It really has been a long time,” Hoss realized. If Joe didn’t remember the game, it must have been- what, twenty years?- since they last played. He remembered Ma joining them once, rocking a baby Joe to sleep as she offered her answers. “It’s pretty simple, you’ll figure it out quick enough. You go first, Adam.”
Adam frowned thoughtfully, bringing a hand to his mouth. “Favorite birthday.”
Hoss grinned when Joe straightened to attention and seemed to bob excitedly. He looked to Hoss and then to Adam. Hoss gestured for him to go ahead. “If you already know yours, then go ahead.”
Hoss often thought about his answers before sharing them, perhaps because that was how Adam taught him to do it. The game itself was invented when Hoss was still learning to talk, and Adam was helping him to discover new words, explaining the names of things and what they were. His earliest memory of the game was Adam asking Hoss what his favorite color was- brown like the horse or white like the canvas wagon cover or orange like the campfire flames.
Adam always told him to think about each word he was going to use; if he didn’t know the word, to use other smaller words to explain the big ones, and then Adam would tell him what the big words were that he’d yet to learn.
Hoss rather thought that contributed to his way of thinking and speaking quite a bit. He still had a tendency to keep his thoughts to himself, especially when the family was facing some sort of big problem or an argument. He liked to keep quiet until he reached an understanding that could be put into a few simple words.
“My eleventh birthday,” Joe rushed out. “When it was so hot for some reason, even though it was October, and I convinced Pa that I could have my party outside- but of course it wasn’t my begging that convinced him, ‘cause Hoss had already planned it that way- and right in the middle of cake I was wonderin’ where Hoss had gotten too, ‘cause, y’know-”
“Birthday cake,” Adam said in understanding.
“And just as I was about to ask Pa where you’d gone to,” Joe said, turning to Hoss, “you came out of the barn carrying Cochise, still just a foal, but you said she was mine.”
Hoss smiled a little, remembering how as soon as Joe’s friends from school left, he’d rushed to Hoss, leaping up and kissing his cheek repeatedly in between thank yous and then jumping down again and pulling him by the hand toward the barn to see the horse again.
“Yeah,” Hoss said fondly. “That’s a good one, Little Joe. You were sure cute that day.”
“I’ll tell you something you missed out on, Joe, given that it was a surprise to you, and that was watching Hoss petition to Pa to let him give you Cochise.”
Hoss felt a warmth on his cheeks. “Aw, Adam.”
“No, it was really something to behold. Pa was caught completely unaware, because Hoss just came to him with this five point argument one night after you had gone to bed, and Pa and I sat there dumbfounded as Hoss made an argument worthy of a defense lawyer’s final statement, trying to keep their client from hanging. Pa wasn’t even against the idea- he and I had been talking about Joe having his own mount for a few months- but we were so enthralled watching you make your case, we just let you talk.”
Hoss rolled his eyes, a little embarrassed. “It weren’t all that good, Adam.”
“Oh, yes, it was Hoss.” There was a certain gleam about Adam then, the one Joe said always made him look like Pa. “All of the sudden, I realized you had become your own man.”
Hoss shrugged bashfully. “Just seemed right, what with Joe helpin’ me when Cochise’s mama was foaling.”
“That was real grand. Cooch stood up and took to walkin’ so fast,” Joe said proudly. Joe had been present for plenty of other births and had helped plenty of other mares through foalings, and had certainly seen other newborn horses take their first steps; but he was understandably biased about his horse, she particularly special.
Adam’s mouth turned up at Joe’s words. “Your turn, Hoss,” he then encouraged.
Hoss had been so busy reminiscing about Joe’s birthday, he’d hardly considered his own answer. “Well,” he said thoughtfully, “probably my birthday that same year. I can’t even rightly remember any of my gifts, but I remember, Joe, you wakin’ me up that morn, jumping on my bed and dropping down a’top of me, yellin’ happy birthday loud as humanly possible, and that night, Adam, ya took me ta the saloon in town and bought me my first ever beer. Pretty simple day, I s’pose, but..” he shrugged, but he needn’t have been hesitant; both Joe and Adam were nodding along like he had made a good choice.
“Wait a minute, you had your first beer when you were seventeen?” Joe asked agog. Hoss shifted awkwardly, Joe’s observation making him a little uncomfortable; he always felt that way whenever his brother, six years his junior, spoke of certain coming of age rituals or rites of passage that Hoss never had, or at least did not experience until later than his brothers or the rest of his peers.
“Yes, Joe,” Adam broke in teasingly, “he waited for it to be special, rather than sneaking into Pa’s liquor cabinet at fifteen.”
Joe had the decency to look sheepish. “My way was special enough. You both helped me hide my hangover.”
“It’s still a miracle Pa never found out,” Adam griped, and then threw a wink in Hoss’ direction. Somehow, Hoss’ older brother could always sense when he was insecure and knew just how to step in, saying just the right thing. “That was a good birthday, Hoss. I remember how excited I was to take you with me that evening.” He then snorted, and added, “There was also your last birthday, when Sport got spooked by heaven knows what, and I was thrown, and then he slammed into you and Chubby, and you fell, consequently breaking your collar bone and separating your shoulder.”
Hoss winced at the memory and rubbed his arm and chest, just the mention of the injury reminding him of the pain. “I didn’t have the heart to tell Pa what really happened night of. It was clear he’d spent the entire evening frettin’ over us being late, and I didn’t want him to worry any more’n he had already.”
Adam nodded at the recollection. “You always surprise me at how well you can lie when you really need to.”
Joe leapt in. “Hoss can lie real good when he wants to, it’s just that he don’t often want to.”
Adam nodded in agreement, half impressed. “Boy, Pa was upset when the truth and the full extent of your injuries came out the next morning. He was fretting and fussing over you like a baby. He was so concerned that I don’t think he fully realized you successfully lied to his face.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Hoss said. “Your turn, Adam.”
The man hummed. “Well, you two know I don’t love my birthday.”
They nodded; Hoss had been surprised Adam even picked the topic, as he must’ve known he’d eventually be discussing it too. Hoss understood that it was hard to feel like celebrating when it was also the anniversary of something so painful.
“First few birthdays, we didn’t celebrate, really. We couldn’t do much, as we had no money to spare. From what I can recall, Pa would give me an extra kiss and tell an extra story, but we didn’t celebrate it. The first time we did anything was when Ma Inger was with us.”
“That was your favorite?” Joe asked, sounding rather endeared at the thought.
But Adam shook his head. “It was a great day,” he verified. “A little party with cake and singing and all. They told me I was going to be a big brother, and I was over the moon,” he said, sending Hoss a smile. “But it was the birthday after that that was my favorite. Pa-”
Adam stopped and tugged at his ear.
“He partook in my sixth birthday party, of course, but it was that next birthday that he really, really put an effort into celebrating. He’d been without Mother for years, and Ma Inger for a few months- he was grieving a lot- but he didn’t want to let it pass. I think the fact that I could have so easily not made it to my seventh year hit him, and.. anyway, he made tall stacks of flapjacks and frosted them like little tiered cakes, and then we did gifts. There were one or two things bought at a trading post, yet those weren’t the best. Pa could sew, mainly darning or repairs, but that birthday, he sewed me a little bear. The stitching looked like those of patches on ship sails, and I adored the thing. I still adore it; I still have it, worn and well loved as it is.” He finished with an uncomfortable clearing of his throat. “Anyway, that’s my best birthday. Joe, come up with a question.”
Joe, who’d been staring at Adam wide-eyed and open mouthed- Hoss knew he looked much the same, as Adam was rarely so honest or vulnerable- shook himself. “Why me?”
“You answered first last time, them’s the rules,” Hoss told him.
“Well, I didn’t know that, if I did, I wouldn’ta jumped in first.” He scratched the back of his head. “I don’t know, all I can think of are boring ones like favorite book or favorite color.”
“Paradise Lost and black. Ah, I’m gonna have to go first again now,” Adam realized with annoyance.
Hoss snorted, and Joe asked, “Why do you like black so much? I remember ya didn’t always wear it.”
A somewhat sad smile played at Adam’s lips. “Back east, there’s a slew of traditions about mourning and how you dress; Widows Weeds and all. As I seemed to lose more and more people, I wanted a way to pay respect to those I lost, and a black armband seemed paltry, unable to encompass the amount of people or the amount of grief I had for each.”
Joe looked at him with a mix of pity and horror. “Are all your answers going to be sad?”
“Joe!”
Hoss’ scolding was overpowered by Adam’s loud belly laugh. “They aren’t sad to me, but I’ll endeavor to brighten up my future responses.”
Joe still looked doubtful, but he looked to Hoss, waiting for his answer.
“I dunno that I got a favorite book.. Even though I like reading, I ain’t too good at it,” Hoss said.
“That isn’t so,” Adam gentled, both he and Joe looking disappointed at Hoss’ assessment of himself.
Hoss shook his head doubtfully. “I dunno. Sometimes just picking up a book has me rememberin’ how Miss Jones would make me read aloud and how the other kids would laugh when I stuttered or said the words wrong.”
When his brothers continued to stare at him in concern, he desperately wracked his brain for an answer.
“But I suppose I liked that Walden book ya were talkin’ about last year, it was pretty good.”
Adam stared. “You read Walden?”
“You were goin’ on and on about how good it was and how much ya liked it.”
“You never told me.” Adam mouthed a few helpless words, looking at Hoss inquisitively. “Why?”
“I dunno, sorta silly, me readin’ it.” Hoss thought Adam shook his head in protest, but looking down as he was, he couldn’t be sure. “And I know ya wouldn’ta been disappointed if I came ta ya with questions from my not understandin’ it, but I figured if ya never knew, there’d be no harm if I wasn’t smart enough for it or didn’t like it. I did, though,” he quickly confirmed again. “I dunno that I understood it all, or even agreed with it all, but some of it made an awful lotta sense.”
Adam continued to stare at him with a funny expression, almost like he was about to cry. His voice somewhat brittle, he said, “Fishermen, hunters, woodchoppers, and others, spending their lives in the fields and woods, in a peculiar sense a part of Nature themselves, are often in a more favorable mood for observing her, in the intervals of their pursuits, than philosophers or poets even, who approach her with expectation.”
Hoss nodded, not remembering the quote- he’d never be able to recall and recite things the way Adam could- but remembering the idea.
“What does that mean?” Joe asked, looking at them curiously.
“It means that Hoss has a better understanding of nature than most of the people who write about it.” Hoss didn’t know about that, but he was too embarrassed to argue. Adam continued to stare at him. “You really liked it? It’s okay if you didn’t, don’t feel that you have to for me.”
Hoss shrugged shyly. “From what I could understand, I did. I liked his more simple stuff. Like how every child makes the world new again.”
Adam’s mouth twitched and wavered and eventually turned into a smile. “Yeah. That is a good part. It’s true, too.”
Hoss cleared his throat, and said, “And my favorite color is green. Ponderosa pine green. Go ahead, Joe.”
Joe looked back and forth between them. “Well, now my favorite book is gonna sound silly, you two bein’ all intellectual.”
“I’m sure it ain’t silly,” Hoss protested. “C’mon, punkin, what is it?”
Joe glanced furtively at Adam. “I liked that book about Camelot you would read to me when I was a kid. All that stuff about chivalry and all, I thought it was the greatest. I always figured you and Hoss and Pa were just like knights, I could close my eyes and see you in the armor and everything.”
Adam beamed as Joe spoke, his eyes close to watering. “You really liked that?”
“Of course,” Joe confirmed, half indignant. “I wanted to be one’a them knights more’n anything.”
“Whadya say, Adam, can we dub him Sir Joseph, Knight of the Ponderosa?”
“I think he’s worthy of the title,” he replied softly.
Joe squinted at them, scrutinizing their expressions. “Are you two teasing me?”
“No,” Adam said simply, completely serious. His eyes sparkled. “So what color is your armor going to be? White knight?”
Joe shook his head. “I don’t know what it would be called.. but kinda a light bluish purple.”
“Periwinkle?” Adam’s eyebrows danced in surprise.
“I guess so, if that’s its name.” He bit his lip. “Y’know-” he gestured awkwardly “-like the shirts Pa wears so often. And when I envision Mama- it’s not a specific memory or anything, more just like an image of her- she’s wearing a dress that color.”
Hoss knew exactly what dress Joe was talking about. He remembered the long wide skirt that she picked up when she needed to run and the bow at the back that Pa always tied for her.
“I dunno, maybe I made up the memory.”
Hoss quickly corrected him. “Nah, I remember it too. I remember her wearing it to church a lot, and at church socials, when she and Pa would dance, she’d twirl and her skirt would flare out and she’d giggle like a little girl. It was why it was her favorite dress.”
Joe looked awed at the story. “Yeah. Periwinkle,” he said, while glancing at Adam for confirmation, who nodded. “Because it reminds me of Pa and Mama.”
Hoss and Adam shared a soft fond look at Joe’s earnest words. Hoss was confident his older brother was thinking of the same thing as he; of how Pa started to wear the color after Marie died, it reminding him of her. And beyond that, because just days before her death, she’d ordered an entire bolt of fabric that shade; when it arrived in her name at the general store, no one had the heart to send it back. Pa had a new shirt made from it every couple of years.
There were only a few yards left on the bolt.
Adam eventually sighed, pulling at his ear and squinting thoughtfully. “Back to me already, isn’t it? Let’s see.. favorite meal.”
“Oh come on, Adam, it’ll be ten years before Hoss finishes his answer,” Joe laughed. “Anything is his favorite.”
“Don’t start teasing him about that again,” Adam groused, coming to his defense. Hoss always appreciated it, despite his tendency to laugh off such comments.
Unfortunately, however, Adam’s protest made his answer feel all the more awkward.
“Heh. Actually, Adam, he’s not all that far off,” Hoss admitted embarrassed. “I ain’t gonna be ten years listin’ ‘em all off,” he said rolling his eyes in Joe’s direction, who put his hands up apologetically, “but y’know how it is after a long drive or even just a few days away to check line shacks and you’re eating beans and jerky and cold coffee, and sure, long as you ain’t goin’ hungry, you’re content. But when ya get back and it smells so good and ya see everything Hop Sing has prepared and the whole family is around the table and you’re home again.. well, my favorite meal is anything we have our first meal back home. It don’t matter what it is.”
Joe grinned. “That’s fair enough.”
“Better than fair,” Adam assessed. He had that Pa-like gleam about him again. Pa loved it when all of them were around the table, breaking bread together. He loved having guests for supper, too; he never turned anyone away from his table and he never let anyone leave hungry. “Joe?”
Joe looked thoughtful a moment, looking up at the stars with a slight knit to his brow. “I dunno if mine actually counts.”
Dryly, Adam told him, “I don’t know how it’s continued to escape your notice, but there really aren’t any rules to this game. If it’s your favorite, it counts.”
“Well, I don’t know why it’s my favorite, ‘cause I don’t really remember them all too well, but Mama’s beignets.”
Both Hoss and Adam made noises of unmitigated pleasure and agreement. “Good answer, Joe-”
“Oh, those were the best; remember, Hoss, how she’d add-?”
“The powdered sugar? Those were amazin’!”
“I could eat a dozen at least,” Adam laughed.
“They were good?” Joe asked. Hoss and Adam’s reminiscing screeched to a halt. “I know when I was little that I was always so excited for them, I remember how they looked, I remember watching her make them, but how they tasted?” He offered a shrug. “I’ve forgotten that part.”
Joe’s quiet helpless voice was deeply sobering.
“I think Hoss’ answer proved that a good meal isn’t reliant on the taste or the food itself. You don’t have to remember the flavor for the memory to be good. You can remember how fun it was to watch the dough fry or how we’d laugh when we’d get powdered sugar all over our faces, Pa and your Mama included.”
Joe giggled a little. “I remember that! I’d nearly forgotten it.”
“Pa would run his finger across the plate to get every bit of sugar and honey and then lick his fingers,” Adam said happily, much to Joe’s delight.
“And Joe, your beignets taste just like your Mama’s,” Hoss affirmed. “They got the same fluffy crispiness, and they’re just as buttery and sweet. You got her recipe down pretty darn perfect. Iffen ya want to know what her’s tasted like, you just gotta make your own.”
Joe blushed at the praise, looking pleased. “I’ll have to make some when we get back. Good first meal for getting home, Hossie?” he asked, looking to him for approval.
Hoss nodded with a wide grin, and then looked at Adam expectantly.
“I was all fire ready to expound on the many virtues of Hop Sing’s cheese biscuits, but the more I thought about it.. it’s not often a meal changes your life.. so I suppose I ought to talk about that one. Even if it didn’t consist of my favorite foods.. well, it’s the most important supper I’ve ever had.”
Hoss raised his eyebrows at Adam’s faraway tone. It was rare he was so caught up in a memory, in anything, to the point of trailing off or not knowing what to say next. Adam, who loved words, always liked to be exact and accurate when speaking; he never started a sentence unless he knew how he was going to finish it.
“We were in Illinois,” he began, glancing at Hoss. “So I was about five. We’d met Ma, but she was still just the nice tall lady at the general store, and she and Pa hadn’t grown close yet. We were staying at a boarding house, and I was getting over an illness, and even then- perhaps especially then- Pa was his usual self when any of us is sick, sitting at our bedside and feeding us and bathing the sweat from our brow. But he had to work, so after he finished giving me my bread and milk, he left. Not long after, I had a bad dream- can’t remember what about- and I wanted Pa, and- I don’t know what my plan was. I guess running out into the street in my nightshirt and socks and over to Pa in the saloon he was working in. But I barely got out of our room and there Pa was, down the hall and sitting on the floor with a needle and thread, letting out the hems of my trousers.”
Joe’s jaw fell open, and Hoss knew his face reflected that same surprise. “He didn’t have the job like he said?” Joe questioned.
“No, he had the job, cleaning up in the tavern. As he was telling me goodbye that night, I asked him if he was going to have supper, and he said he would eat when he got to work. They gave him a dollar a night and whatever they had on hand that could pass for an evening meal.” Adam’s mouth twitched slightly into something vaguely akin to a smile. “That evening, all they could scrounge up was milk and bread.”
“He was-” The words were heavy in Hoss’ mouth. “He was giving you all his food?”
Adam nodded. “He would fetch the meal from the saloon and sit with me while I ate it, and then pretend to leave early so he could have supper before his shift. Instead, that time was used sitting on the floor altering the clothes I was growing out of.”
Hoss felt a lump rising in his throat. “Did Pa see ya?”
“No, I ducked back into our room. I was so taken by surprise I wasn’t scared anymore, and I somehow knew Pa wouldn’t have wanted me to see him.” Adam fidgeted absently, tugging at his earlobe. “And I don’t know how quickly I put it together, if it was immediate or if it took a few more nights of peeking out the door and seeing him sewing or making other repairs- because I did do that, just to ensure he was there- but I eventually realized that, uh.”
He stopped, cleared his throat, offering an embarrassed smile when he suddenly couldn’t seem to speak. He forged onward, the lump in his throat evident.
“That he did that a lot. There were plenty of other times that I remembered him taking jobs where all he’d get in exchange was food, and he’d feed me but not eat himself, and then go back to work a couple hours, and at the next meal, same thing; he’d spoon soup into me and wipe my chin, but he never ate anything.”
“How did he-?” Joe sounded close to tears himself. “How did he not.. starve?”
“It wasn’t like that all the time,” Adam clarified. “Sometimes we could trap game or fish or gather, and we were fine. But there were periods in which.. well, when Pa went without. And it got better after Ma Inger was with us, it was never like that again.”
Hoss sat with a numb kind of horror. All his life, there had always been enough, but what if there hadn’t? What if Pa had needed to work twice as much to feed two growing children? How many more sacrifices would Pa have needed to make?
Ever since they were boys, Pa had always said that food was fuel for the body, had always smiled when Adam and Hoss came rushing into the cabin loudly proclaiming their hunger, had always been pleased when any of them reached for seconds or thirds.
The work they did required energy, and food gave them that energy.
How had Pa functioned without it? What would he have done if it had gotten worse after they lost Hoss’ Mamma?
Pa never, ever teased Hoss for being hungry- not like so many peers did, or even his brothers occasionally, though without the cruelty of his classmates- nor did Pa ever make him feel wrong or bad for being naturally bigger and stronger, thus needing more food to fuel him.
Perhaps the fact Pa had gone hungry before contributed to that, never wanting Hoss to go through what he did.
But- but-
The what ifs and could have beens were horrendous to think about.
“I remember when we were on the train, and our wagon had hundreds of pounds of flour and sugar and bacon. Ma was an amazing cook. And at some point..” Adam smiled a little, shaking his head, “I realized Pa was sorta different. His cheeks weren’t hollow, his hugs were softer, uh- he was fatter, y’know? He wasn’t starving anymore. He was actually healthy for the first time in- well, years, probably. I don’t know if I understood that it was because- well, that Ma knew he’d been going without for a long time, and she was worried about him, and every day he was getting three good meals from her. I remember telling her that Pa looked prettier lately.”
Joe laughed a little, even as it was evident he’d been moved to tears by the story.
“I remember-” There came a short guffaw before Adam continued, “I remember some man on the train made a theoretically inane joke about how Pa was eating like an expectant father who needed to keep his strength up, and as soon as Pa and Ma weren’t around, I kicked him in the shins repeatedly until someone pulled me off of him, and even then I tried to fight and spit at him, because how dare he try to be mean to my Pa about that. I was glad Pa was eating more and I liked him much better fat.”
Joe grinned. “Did you get in trouble with Pa and Inger?”
“I think they were both pretty appalled, but I clammed up about why I committed the attack and I just hugged Pa and didn’t let go, utterly relieved I couldn’t feel his individual ribs anymore, and he was so concerned and confused he just let it pass without any questions or punishment.” Adam’s eyes slid over to Hoss. “Okay, pal? You’re quiet.”
“What-?” The word died in his throat, and Hoss coughed, embarrassed. “What would he have done if it got bad again?”
Adam grew serious. “It didn’t, Hoss. You don’t have to think about how it might have been.”
“But would he have-?”
“Of course, Hoss. And it wouldn’t have been any different than why he did it for me,” he vowed earnestly, somehow sensing the extra element of Hoss’ worry.
He was likely remembering what Hoss was remembering; how some folks looked at Hoss like there was something wrong with him for being a fat little boy, or like there was something wrong with Pa or his parenting for loving him that way rather than trying to change him.
“He would do it for both of us; and for both of us, it would be out of love.”
Hoss nodded, mollified but still uncomfortable; the reactions of such cruel people hearing about such a thing, theoretical as it all was, played in his head, folks acting like he wasn’t worthy of the same kind of sacrifice because he was already a chubby baby, treating him like he could stand to go without; like if Pa had given him his food, Hoss would somehow be taking something away from his father that he was unworthy of-
Not that Hoss would have wanted Pa to do that for him, he didn’t want his Pa going hungry-
“I kept an eye on him for a long time after,” Adam continued, apparently able to see that Hoss was still not relaxed. “In case he tried to avoid taking his meals with us or anything like that. He never did.”
Hoss nodded again. He was still shaken, but Adam’s words granted some peace.
“I guess that’s why us all eating together is so important to him,” Joe said, his eyes on Hoss, looking equally worried and loving, “and actually seein’ that we have more’n enough and sharin’ what we got with each other.”
Adam hummed in agreement. “You’re probably right. Anyway, that’s my favorite meal, because it made me realize just how much love Pa had- still has- for me. And as important as that meal of bread and milk was to me, I am glad it was just about the last one of its kind. Within days, Ma was bringing meals over to us, and a few days later, Pa and I started having our suppers with her.”
He stared at Hoss another moment. “Joe or I can come up with the next question, or we can stop for a while if you like.”
“No- no,” Hoss said, holding up a hand, trying to not think about his Pa going hungry to ensure Adam had enough to eat, about his Mamma cooking for the family and seeing that Pa became fat and healthy again, about how his Pa would have starved all over again for both his sons had he needed to. He tilted his head back and looked up at the stars and the wispy clouds streaking across the night sky. Impulsively, he said, “Favorite weather.”
Nearly simultaneous, both Joe and Adam began to speak; Adam held up a hand in forfeit, letting Joe go first.
“When it’s so hot you can’t help but just wanna jump into the lake. Remember, Hoss, that summer that was just day after day of ninety, hundred degree heat, and it was so dry, and the sun was sweltering, and you and I would go to the lake every day? And it was still just as oppressively hot but you’re in the water and it’s so cool and refreshing that it makes the heat not so bad anymore.”
“When was that?” Adam asked. “Was I away for school?”
Joe frowned in consideration. “Yeah, hadta been. Your first or second summer away maybe? I was still pretty little.”
“Second summer,” Hoss broke in, his voice still somewhat small. He cleared his throat and spoke louder. “I taught ya to swim the first summer.”
He remembered taking Joe to the lake and teaching him how to swim, trying to be as gentle and patient as possible because Joe was terrified of the water. Hoss held onto him by the waist and spun him around in a circle, explaining how to paddle and kick and tread water, and eventually Joe was swimming all on his own and having the most fun he’d ever had in his life. Hoss threw him up into the air and Joe howled with laughter when he splashed back down, and when it seemed he was ready to graduate up to jumping off the large boulder just far enough away from shore, but even then a little fear still lingered, Hoss still caught him every time.
“Yeah!” Joe laughed, the memory coming back to him. “Gosh, we wouldn’ta made it through that heat if you hadn’t taught me to swim. That summer was like that trail drive a few years ago, Adam, that was so dry and scorching.”
Immediately, both of them made sounds of recognition, and Adam laughed some. “It was so hot that even with the money we earned selling the cattle, the whole ordeal hardly seemed worth it. We came across that river at just the right time. Pa can be so surprisingly funny sometimes.”
As they’d been stopped to water their horses and refill their canteens, Pa suddenly removed his hat and belt and boots, eventually stripping off all of his clothes save for his long johns, and then without a word, leapt into the river.
Hoss and his brothers had watched it all in open mouthed shock and confusion, wondering if the sun had gotten to their father- and in a way, it had- and then laughed uproariously, shucking their own clothes and jumping in after him when Pa questioned what they were waiting for and told them the water was fine.
“I still think you and Pa cheated somehow when we were playing chicken,” Joe said to Hoss, who couldn’t help but snort.
“How could we cheat? Pa wanted to win more than you did and pushed you off Adam’s shoulders.”
“I’m with Joe, I think you two cheated,” Adam said, feigning seriousness. Joe nodded, looking vindicated, then threw Hoss a wink. “My turn?”
“Go ahead, big brother.”
Adam leaned his head back, looking at the clouds and stars above them. “Best kind weather is a cloudy day. Not raining and still sunny, but clouds everywhere; the sky a vibrant blue, and the clouds so puffy, they practically look solid. And you just lay back in the grass and watch them float along above you, finding shapes, and then they change form and look like something new.”
“Your favorite weather is cloud watching weather?” Joe asked, his voice wavering slightly; he seemed to be suppressing laughter, but was also clearly endeared by the thought.
“I remember playin’ that when we were little shavers,” Hoss said. “After chores, we’d go up ta the roof of the cabin and lay there lookin’ for shapes.”
“Do you remember when we fell asleep up there?”
“No! Did we really?” Hoss laughed.
“Poor Pa near went crazy looking for us. Finally, he heard your snoring and he climbed up the side- you remember how the logs almost had handholds? And he was so mad for a second, but we were still so sleepy and he was relieved we were alright. He just kissed us both and told us to never, ever go up there without his permission again. I felt bad about causing him worry, but-” he shrugged. “Guess that’s part of growing up and part of having children.”
“Yeah,” Hoss started to slowly recall. “I don’t remember that, but I suppose I remember watching the clouds while out in fields a lot more often. Pa did it with us sometimes too, didn’t he?”
Adam sobered slightly. “Sometimes. He and Mother used to do it together. She loved the game. He passed it on to me, because it was a way for me to feel connected to her. But sometimes, the memories were too much for him, and he couldn’t bring himself to play.”
“He’d lay between us on the ground. He wouldn’t play, but he still wanted to listen to us,” Hoss remembered, and Adam hummed.
“Pa’s had a hard life, ain’t he?” Joe asked. “I mean, I know that he has, but-” his eyebrow met in a nervous peak. “Is it still hard for him?”
Hoss caught Adam’s eye. Minutely, Adam shook his head. “Nah, at least not in the same way it used ta be. I think havin’ us helps him when it gets hard.” He looked back at Adam again, hoping the words met his approval; his brother rewarded him with a nod.
“Favorite weather, Hoss.”
“Hmm.”
Hoss thought a moment. The Ponderosa was beautiful in all conditions and all seasons. Rain or shine, snowed in all winter or so hot the only option was to strip down to one’s skivvies to jump in the lake.
“I don’t know that it’s gotta name. But when winter’s turnin’ into spring. There’s still snow on the ground, there’s still that crunch when ya step into it, but it’s meltin’ fast, too, ‘cause it’s starting ta get warm. And it smells like mud and wet dirt, yet it smells clean somehow, y’know? Fresh, and- and new. And the grass is startin’ ta come up through the snow, so green and resilient, and you know it’ll be grown up into a whole meadow of sweet smellin’ flowers before long. And the Ponderosa’s right on this-” he gestured unknowingly with his hands, wishing he knew how to explain what he was thinking.
“Precipice.”
“Yeah,” he said, agreeing with Adam. “The Ponderosa’s balanced right between winter and spring, and there’s the sense it’s coming but not quite there yet. And you stand in the woods, and all the little birds, the wind in the pines, they kinda go silent- or it seems like they do- and you just think about God and marvel at everything the earth is doin’. Makes you feel big and small all at once.”
Hoss stopped when he realized Adam and Joe were staring at him. He scratched the back of his head awkwardly when they didn’t speak.
“I s’pose that ain’t exactly a weather, huh?”
Joe let out a huff of laughter. “Adam, I think that Walden fella was right.”
“I agree, but Walden is the title of the book, the author is Thoreau,” Adam said, the correction seemingly automatic. He continued to stare at Hoss.
“What?” Hoss asked, unsure what to do with the scrutiny.
“Nothing. Just thinking that the next time I want to order a book of poetry from somewhere back east, I ought to listen to you instead. Far more illuminating and far more beautiful.”
Hoss flushed. “Get outta here.”
Understanding filled Adam’s eyes. “Let’s get the attention off our bashful brother here, huh, Joe?”
“Sure, Adam. Favorite..” he sucked at his teeth. “Favorite place. Favorite place on the Ponderosa.”
“Our happy place,” Hoss said immediately.
Joe bobbed his head in agreement. “Yeah. I know I’m supposed to go last, but me too.”
“Your happy place?” Adam asked.
“Yeah. We went there when we were kids,” Joe explained. “We didn’t do anything special when we were there, but just being there was special.”
Hoss remembered his little brother sitting next to him at the ridge, the two of them side by side on a felled log, and Joe leaning his head against his arm, and talking with each other about the things they could talk about with no one else.
But even as Hoss watched Joe, touched at the warm, happy gleam about him, he found himself thinking of another place. Maybe it wasn’t his favorite- it certainly hadn’t been the first one he’d thought of- but..
A canyon full of blossoming dogwoods and gold-back ferns.
Only one other person in the entire world knew about it; at least, she had known before her passing.
She was there in the canyon, every spring.
The warm breeze would come up and it was like her hand on his cheek. The air would sparkle with gold dust just like the blonde of her hair, and flower petals, pink and cream like her complexion, would float down, and-
And she was there.
It was always a special place for him, a place he went to when he needed to see something pretty and good.
Since Emily’s death, he went there whenever he missed her. Even a few years on, he still ached for her.
It would forever be their canyon, unseen and unknown by anyone else. Somehow, safeguarding that place was like Hoss’ last way of showing he still loved her.
“Well, if we’ve got the same answer, do we both wanna come up with a second favorite?”
Hoss considered Joe’s offer. “I dunno. I stand by what I said, I don’t mind if we share an answer.”
Joe shrugged, apparently willing to accept that Hoss didn’t want to voice any other potential favorites.
Technically, Emily’s canyon was not Hoss’ favorite place; rather, it was the most special.
“Go ahead, Adam,” Hoss vaguely heard, Joe offering their older brother an encouraging smile.
“Favorite place on the Ponderosa.. there’s a rise, not unlike any of the other rises on the ranch. Can see the pines, the open space. Special in its own way, but no more special than any of the other views on the Ponderosa. But a few years ago, as Pa and I looked out upon it, he said-”
He spoke a little differently, then; he was not quite imitating Pa, but his voice was a little deeper, his tone reverent.
“He said, ‘Feast your eyes on a sight that approaches Heaven itself.’ I told him, y’know, for all he’s done and seen, he can’t really know if it compares to Heaven. And-” Adam chuckled, looking slightly incredulous, “-he replied with the most un-Pa-like answer. ‘Maybe I’ve never been to Heaven, maybe I’ll never get the chance, but it’ll take some doing for it to beat our Ponderosa.’”
Hoss and Joe immediately let out copies of Adam’s incredulous laugh. “That doesn’t sound like Pa a’tall,” Joe chuckled.
“I know,” Adam replied fondly. “At the time, we were worried about land grabbers, and I didn’t really think that much about it, but later on, I realized the full extent of what he said, how it revealed what this land really means to him. So that view is my favorite place on the Ponderosa.”
Hoss hummed, liking his brother’s answer. He, too, often thought of the Ponderosa as a little corner of heaven, and that they were acting as stewards to it; that caring for the land was the divine task God chose for them.
But as he was considering that, he caught Adam’s expression; Hoss frowned, recognizing the discontent Adam did not fully succeed in hiding.
“What?”
Adam’s eyes flickered awkwardly in Joe’s direction. Whatever was on his mind he would have no qualms about sharing with Hoss, but for some reason, he was hesitant to speak of it with Joe present.
“Before Joe clarified favorite place on the Ponderosa,” he began, slow and careful, “he simply said favorite place.”
Joe straightened angrily. “You mean your real favorite place ain’t even on the Ponderosa?”
Adam didn’t reply, which was damning enough, an unspoken confirmation to Joe’s question.
Despite all of the fury exuding from Joe, Hoss could see through it; he knew hurt was at the core of his response.
His little brother hated the thought of Adam leaving the Ponderosa, or that the family wasn’t enough to make Adam happy.
Hoss didn’t like the idea of Adam leaving them either, but he understood that if he ever did choose to go, it wouldn’t be because the family had failed him; it would be for that part deep down inside of him that yearned for more.
Hoss and Joe and Pa would always mean home to Adam, regardless of wherever he someday went and whatever new places he lived in. Hoss knew that without a doubt.
“What’s your favorite place, Adam?” Hoss asked gently, understanding.
“Is it back east?” Joe asked, bitter and hurt and scared all at once.
“Yes,” Adam replied, the word in and of itself sounding like an apology. But he continued on determined and confident, unwilling to lie about something so important to him. “When I lived with grandfather while going to school, the only extra room in his home was Mother’s bedroom.”
Hoss’ breath caught, as did Joe’s.
“It was still the same, unchanged even eighteen years later. It was the room of a new mother, unfinished booties in a knitting basket; the room of a young woman and wife, her bridal trousseau and hope chest at the foot of the bed; the room of a girl soon to become a lady, with books everywhere about the places she dreamed of seeing someday; the room of a little child, a trunk overloaded with dolls and stuffed toys.”
He exhaled, swallowing hard.
“It was like she was there with ya, huh?” Hoss asked.
Adam rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. “More than that. I’ve always felt like part of Pa- or, well, like I was half Pa. It’s a good feeling, don’t misunderstand; you know how it is with him. But my other half, the half from Mother.. when I was there, I finally knew what it was like to be her son, too, not just Pa’s son. And every item in that room,” he said, shaking his head fondly, “Every drawing or toy or book, Grandfather had a story to go with it. Pa told me stories about his wife, but Grandfather told stories about his daughter. It was an entirely new perspective.”
Joe, likely afraid of wiping the happy look off of Adam’s face, began hesitantly. “Wasn’t it.. strange? Being there, after everything that happened in that room?”
Adam looked at Joe, and then slowly shook his head. “No.”
“But she..”
“I know. She died there. But she grew up there, she loved Pa there, she brought me into the world there. The room saw far more life than death.”
Joe suddenly turned pink.
“What, Joe?” Hoss asked.
He shook his head, blushing harder.
“What?”
Embarrassed, every couple of words came out in a short burst. “She loved Pa there. They both lived there- it was their bedroom- when they got married. They were husband and wife in that room.”
“If you’re trying to express your realization that I was very likely conceived in that room, you don’t have to. Such a probability is not a new thought.”
Joe squeaked a yelp. “But wouldn’t that have been weird, being there and knowing..?”
“Hate to break it to you, buddy, but you’ve very frequently been in and even slept in the same room you were likely conceived in too.”
Joe’s face slackened as his eyes went wide. “Yech! Ack-!” he glared at their brother and held his head in his hands. “Why?”
Adam snorted. “Show a little maturity, huh? You must know by now that the story Hoss and I told you about a pack mule arriving with a baby in her pannier was a bunch of nonsense.”
“You’re a product of Pa and your Ma’s love, Joe, that ain’t nothing to be ashamed of,” Hoss told him honestly. He really did mean his words, but simultaneously, he was relieved the covered wagon he was likely conceived in was long gone.
Joe seemed slightly appeased at Hoss’ words, and tilted his head forward in understanding.
“Okay. That thought would take me some getting used to, but that don’t mean I can’t understand why you loved the place. Guess you felt like you were close to her there, huh?”
Adam sparkled, exuding joy. “I really did. And eventually my textbooks and drafting tools began to get mixed in with her things, and it was like we got to be the same person for a while.”
Joe nodded. “I can’t begrudge ya that, havin’ a favorite place that ain’t here, I mean. If Mama’s grave wasn’t on the Ponderosa, she’d be a favorite place too.”
“That’s your other favorite?” Hoss asked. “Other than our happy place?”
“Yeah. I go there sometimes and talk to her. Not like she can give me advice, but just feeling like she knows what’s going on makes me handle whatever it is that I’m facing better.” He smiled a little bashfully. “Hoss, sure you don’t wanna add a second place? We both did.”
Hoss shook his head, smiling slightly. Adam squinted at him, somewhat askance. Maybe he knew there was another place Hoss had in mind, another place that was special to him that he didn’t want to reveal. But Adam didn’t ask him, and so Hoss instead tried to think of a new question. “Hmm. I thought of favorite animal, but my answer would be all of them and you two would probably say horses.”
Joe laughed in agreement, while Adam hummed thoughtfully. “Yes, you’re probably right, my favorite would be horses.”
“Okay, gimme a sec.” Hoss scratched the side of his head. “Mite odd, maybe, but s’all I got. Favorite name.”
“Hey, that’s a good one,” Adam said.
“Ya mean in general, just names we like, or when we’re Pas and naming our babies?”
Hoss made a noncommittal sound. “Either way, up to you.”
Joe’s brow knit in consideration.
Adam waited, seemingly on the possibility Joe wanted to go first. When he didn’t speak, Adam began, “I have multiple favorites, actually.”
Hoss gestured for him to go ahead, and Joe agreed. “Yeah, you start, I need more time to think.”
“Elizabeth, Erica, Inger, Josephine, Marie, and Benicia.”
A hearty, bellowing guffaw burst from Hoss’ lips, overwhelmed with joy. “Oh, I love ya, Adam.”
Joe’s grin was blinding. “You were so ready with those answers!”
“I’ve given it a fair amount of thought.” His pleased smile was small, but wholly genuine. “I do, after all, want to be a father someday, and have plenty of children.”
“What makes you so sure you’re gonna have daughters? And six of them, at that?” Joe asked with a laugh.
“Oh, I don’t know. Just a sense I’ve got. Apparently, my mother knew without a doubt I’d be a boy. And it doesn’t have to be six, I’m willing to use some as middle names.”
“Very accommodating of you,” Joe teased.
Adam spoke of it with a certain amount of irreverence, knowing that he was not married and knowing that things such as children could not be planned in the manner he described.
And yet, there was still a yearning about him, a vacant dreaminess, as if wishing he truly had six daughters waiting for him back home, longing for them with every fiber of his being.
“What would you do if you had a son?”
Adam dimmed slightly at Hoss’ question. “I’ve given thought to that too. Ross and Gil.”
Hoss thought of Adam’s good friends, one who died by Adam’s hand- whose hand Adam held as his life slipped away- and the other who died in a mining accident Adam lived through- and from then on had to carry the guilt of that survival.
“Eight youngins, huh, Adam? I can see that easily,” Hoss told him.
Adam laughed gruffly. “Well, we’ll see, at least. Found any answers, Joe?”
The young man pulled at a snag on his bedroll. “I dunno. A couple of the ones you said I was halfway thinking of.”
“Well, as far as I know, neither of us is in the position to get a jump on the other as far as naming rights,” Adam declared dryly. He quirked an eyebrow. “Unless there’s something you’re not telling us.”
“No!” Joe squawked, before throwing Adam a glare. He softened before speaking again, voice quiet. “I like Ben and Marie. And I thought maybe- maybe-”
Joe bit at his thumbnail, a reoccurring nervous habit of his. Once or twice over the years, Pa had tried to deter him of it, but the move reminded him so much of Marie that he never put much effort into the attempt.
“Maybe Laura or Amy,” he admitted sadly, his head bowed.
Hoss was too far away to offer much tangible comfort, but, still stretched out and lying on his side, he nudged Joe’s boot with his own, giving him a small kick. It wasn’t much, but it was an acknowledgment; it was appreciated, at least, if the tiny smile on Joe’s face was anything to go by.
“What about you, Hoss?”
Hoss sighed. “I’ve thought about Inger. Ben and Gunnar, too. And I’ve always liked the name Addy.”
Hoss did not turn to look at his older brother, but he sensed it when Adam straightened, staring with wide eyes.
“Yeah?” Joe inquired. “Why Addy?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said lightly, delighting in Adam’s response.
Hoss was having entirely too much fun with this.
“Been attached to Addy ever since I was a little shaver. The name sounded right even then. Can’t remember why,” he lied with ease.
Why, so the story went, was because of the simple fact Hoss struggled with his m’s as a child, and he’d found it easier to say Addy than Adam. Even when Hoss could pronounce Adam correctly, the diminutive pet name persisted, used throughout their childhood- albeit rarely enough, it seemed, for Joe to have missed it.
Hoss had rendered Adam speechless. His mouth hung half parted; his jaw twitched occasionally but he did not speak. Hoss tried to study him further without making it obvious he was watching him, trying to be aloof and casual as Joe nodded along to his explanation.
“Addy’s pretty cute,” Joe concluded.
Adam’s mouth curled into a smile and he ducked his head.
“I sure think so,” Hoss said, making a concerted effort to hide the happy waver of his voice.
“It’s your turn, Adam,” Joe reminded him, the urging immediately followed by a look of confusion.
“Hmm?” Adam’s head popped up, revealing a wet smile. “Oh- yes. Uh-” he hummed contentedly.
Joe turned to Hoss, concerned and doubtful at Adam’s manner. Hoss shook his head slightly, and Joe shrugged away the behavior.
“Favorite song?”
Hoss nodded appreciatively, but held off on sharing his answer when he saw Joe twitch with excitement.
“Shenandoah,” he said immediately.
“Yeah?” Adam asked. “I didn’t know that was your favorite.”
Joe bit at his thumbnail. “I guess it ain’t really the song that’s my favorite,” he said slowly. “It’s one of Pa’s favorites, y’know,” he clarified unnecessarily.
Both Hoss and Adam nodded in acknowledgment.
“I guess what I like about it is that he asks me to sing it. Like at parties or when we’re just sitting around singing together. He asks me to sing it and then he thanks me once I have,” he repeated, voice small but pleased.
Hoss smiled at Joe’s reasoning.
There was a very specific sort of happiness that came with Pa’s appreciation and praise. It was incomparable to any other feeling, to be the cause of his pride or laughter or joy.
Joe was always the most obvious in how said feeling affected him; he always beamed and glowed at any of Pa’s compliments.
The mere memory of Pa’s contentment when he sang had Joe looking just as exultant now.
The happy feeling was not because Pa was miserly with his thanks or recognition, either, as they were always given freely and honestly. Anytime he was pleased with them, he said as much; or if too bashful for it to be put into words- as Adam and Hoss often were- Pa would instead offer a gleaming look, patting them on the back or wrapping an arm around their shoulders.
“And when I’m singing, his eyes dance and crinkle up with pride. He gets that content look. All that over somethin’ as simple as a song.” The corner of his mouth turned upward. “Yeah, that’s why it’s my favorite, ‘cause I get to make him happy by singing it.”
“You know, Joe, every once in a while,” Adam joked, mock serious, “you say something so sweet that it’s hard for me to keep on thinking of you as a brat.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Joe replied in same. “I’ll never deny you the chance to honestly call me that. I get far too much fun out of being a brat to quit the endeavor completely.”
Both laughed, and though Hoss rolled his eyes at his brothers’ strange sense of humor, he was glad they were having fun.
“Hoss, favorite song,” Joe requested when he and Adam finished giggling.
“Dunno that I got a favorite for singin’. Any that I don’t hafta sound too good at,” Hoss said, having a preference for easier numbers that he could half talk through. He wasn’t a bad singer, but he also knew he was by no means as good as his brothers or father, and he didn’t see the point in trying to be, preferring to sing for the fun of it. “Far as hearin’ and listenin’, I like that Swedish song from when we was little shavers, Adam.”
“Ma Inger’s lullaby,” he replied softly.
Hoss thought of the many times in recent years he’d heard it; just as important to him now as when Adam would sing it to him every night before falling asleep.
Sometimes it was as simple as hearing Adam absentmindedly hum it while working on some other task, going over the ledgers or shining his boots or braiding a lariat.
Other times it had been in situations more serious. There had been a couple times Adam sang it while Hoss lay wounded, like the time he was bushwhacked, or when a horse stumbled and then fell on his ribs.
Hoss wasn’t quite sure how he remembered it, as he was unconscious at the time- although Joe’s words had somehow gotten through to him, a fact he still thanked God for. Adam had simply been humming it to his recumbent form. At some point, he stopped, apologized, and admitted to Hoss in a worn out whisper that he knew it silly to sing a lullaby when his brother was in a coma, when they were all out of their minds with worry that he wouldn’t ever wake up again. But then Adam had continued after a short pause, singing and humming the same lullaby over and over again until his throat was raw. Hoss had asked him about it later; Adam’s eyes had widened at the fact Hoss heard him, and he simply explained that Hoss looked so small and helpless and young in the bed, he couldn’t help but remember how he tended to Hoss when he was a baby.
The other time, Hoss had asked for it directly. He was laid out flat in the bed of the buckboard and Adam and Joe were wedged in between him and the sideboards. Hoss only recalled the pain in an abstract way, one of his busted ribs having punctured a lung. What he really remembered was what a struggle it was to breathe, gasping and choking and coughing. He’d tried to control it a moment- only later did he realize and feel guilt at how Adam and Joe had straightened in horror, thinking the pause in his wheezing was indicative of something else- and then asked Adam if he would sing him their Swedish song. Physically incapable of denying him such a request, he’d begun the lullaby, and though it soon lulled him into a painless sleep, Hoss could still recall the lump in Adam’s throat and the sound of not only Joe, but also their Pa on the bench seat, weeping.
“Reminds me of all we came from and have gone through,” Hoss said.
Adam hummed. “I-” he stopped as if unsure he wanted to say what he’d set out to. He then shrugged and continued anyway, despite appearing like he felt what he had to say was silly. “I wish you could’ve heard Ma’s voice. She could have sung at the opera house.”
For the shortest second, Hoss was hurt; it was another thing he never had the chance to make memories about.
But he ignored that awkward, sad feeling, knowing that Adam only shared the memory because for him, it was a good one.
“You really remind me of her when you sing. Not so much in the songs themselves, as you two like completely different kinds of music, but anytime she’d finish a song and Pa and I would clap, she’d brush it off the same way you do, saying, ‘Ah, it was nothing,’” Adam said, concluding with the slight Swedish accent that he adopted when telling stories about her. “Real shy-like, the way you do.”
Hoss must have turned pink, embarrassed, as Adam immediately grinned, adding “Yeah, and the blush is the same too.”
Hoss flushed even more. “Hush up, Adam, and just tell us your favorite.”
Adam indulged him. “Not exactly a song, as there are no lyrics, but favorite composition, I suppose, would be the waltz on my Mother’s music box.”
“Oh, yeah,” Joe said, nodding. “That is a pretty little ditty. What song is it anyway?”
Adam shrugged matter of factly. “Never have known. I asked Pa about it when I was a boy, and he said he didn’t know.”
“What don’t I know?”
Hoss and his brothers flinched, instinctively reaching for the gun belts laid out beside their bedrolls; but just as Hoss’ hand landed on the cool leather, the words registered to him, and he turned to look at the shadowed figure that had approached their campsite.
“Hiya, Pa,” Hoss said, relaxing. Adam and Joe also calmed, letting go of their weapons.
“Hello,” he replied, guiding Buck beside him by the lead rope and walking over to the rest of the horses. “Why aren’t you boys asleep? It must be well past midnight,” he said, removing his mount’s tack and saddle.
“I think a better question is what you’re doing riding in here at midnight.”
Adam looked up at their Pa inquisitively and scooted over to one side of his bedroll, making room. Pa hunkered beside the fire a moment, warming his hands, and then joined Adam.
“You must each promise not to laugh.”
Automatically, each of them snorted a short, amused huff; their Pa raised a disparaging eyebrow. Adam raised his right hand in a silent vow, and Hoss and Joe imitated him.
“We do so solemnly swear,” Adam seriously told him.
Pa grumbled, but then began to speak. “There were rumors that the rabid wolf was seen closer to the west pasture and not just around here. A rumor about a coyote or a fox sick with it as well. I’ve heard multiple people speak of seeing stray dogs with strange behaviors. It could all be heresy or fear, of course.”
“But on the off chance it wasn’t,” Joe inferred, “you wanted us to know.”
None of them laughed, honoring their vow, but each smiled softly.
“Well, I don’t know if the disease has spread, but we at least got the wolf that was after the herd in the southern range,” Adam affirmed. “He won’t be hurting anymore.”
The line of tension in Pa’s shoulders visibly fell away, and he relaxed beside Adam. “I’m glad to hear that. Hopefully that’s the only animal we’ll have to worry about.”
“How’d ya find us, Pa?”
“Oh, I knew where you would be looking and I knew that you’d be on your way home by now, regardless of whether you’d found the wolf, so it wasn’t hard to guess which trail you’d be on. Now, what’s this that I never knew about?”
For the shortest moment, Hoss forgot what he and his brothers had been talking about, and wracked his brain, wondering what youthful indiscretion or rebellion they had been recalling, something they’d hidden from their father.
“My Mother’s music box,” Adam said, and the memory immediately returned to Hoss. “Joe asked what song it played, and I was telling him we never knew, that all you could tell me was that it was a waltz.”
If their Pa was confused or surprised at their topic of discussion- admittedly, a rather odd one, given the time and place- he did not show it. He simply made a noise of recognition. “Oh, yes. Perhaps I knew the song when I bought it, but it has been many years, and it’s such a small detail at that, that I’m afraid that if I ever did have the title, it is long forgotten.”
Adam shrugged off the apologetic tone.
“Probably a Dutch composer,” Pa mused. “You know, I suspect you could bring it with you on your next trip to San Francisco. I wouldn’t be surprised if you could find answers after making inquiries at a music school or the like.”
Adam made a contemplative sound, nodding.
Hoss wondered if he would actually do it. He happened to know that Adam was deeply protective over the music box, rarely moving it from the table beside his bed, not wanting to risk breaking or losing it. Occasionally, Hoss thought he heard it playing late at night, and he figured that Adam had opened it, unable to sleep. Every once in a while, he heard very quiet strumming following or on top of the notes, gradual but eventually successful attempts at imitating the melody on his guitar.
Hoss watched Pa for a moment, thinking of all his brothers shared about their father that night, all he himself had considered and revealed.
How he let Hoss give Joe a horse for his eleventh birthday; how he babied Hoss when he was injured; how he used his knowledge of sailor’s stitches to make Adam a stuffed bear; how he wore periwinkle so frequently it had become Joe’s favorite color; how he loved to have the entire family around the dining table; how he’d lick his plate clean after beignets; how he went without to ensure Adam never went hungry; how he stripped down to his skivvies on a hot day and jumped into the river and played chicken at his grown sons’ behest; how he laid in a field and listened to his two young boys point out shapes in the clouds; how he thought their home and the land it was on approached heaven itself; how all his sons wanted to name a child after him; how he always looked so proud to be their father, lucky and honored to call them his sons.
As different as every one of Hoss and Adam and Joe’s answers had been to each question, one thing was quite certain.
They all were in agreement on their favorite father.
“Hey, Pa,” Hoss said. “I’m glad you’re here.”
He straightened, likely believing there was something wrong, though perhaps not with the rabid wolf, and wanting to help. “Oh? Why’s that?”
“Oh, no reason,” Hoss said simply before smiling earnestly. “Just glad you’re here.”
Pa was surprised a moment before his eyes twinkled fondly; and there was that happy, indescribable feeling they all loved so much, the innate understanding that Pa quite genuinely enjoyed each of them. “I’m glad too.”
“Pa, d’ya got a favorite flower?” Joe asked.
“A favorite flower?” His brow knit in confusion. “Not particularly. I remember a few fields of prairie flowers that were quite beautiful the summer we passed through Nebraska and Kansas.”
“I remember that,” Adam said. “Those little purple ones Ma liked so much, and all the sunflowers.”
Pa hummed in pleasure. “Yes. And Marie loved her rose garden so dearly, tending to it with such care.”
“What about Adam’s mama?” Joe asked.
Pa chuckled, quiet but hearty. “She loved all flowers. The wallpaper in our bedroom had.. peonies, I believe? Perhaps they were roses. They were pink, I remember.”
“The parlor, too,” Adam said quietly, and cleared his throat, speaking louder when Pa turned to him. “The parlor had wallpaper with pink flowers. On the wall closest to the street and then up the stairs.”
“Yes.. yes!” Pa said, excited at the recollection. “In a diamond pattern, I remember now. Funny to have forgotten such a thing. I remember the Captain telling me that pacing wouldn’t make you come any sooner, and when he dragged me over to the settee, I counted the flowers to distract myself from how impatient I was to meet you.”
That he so badly wanted to meet Adam was certainly not a lie- Hoss knew as much even without having been there or being born yet- but Hoss could guess that Pa’s pacing had much more to do with worry and fear than impatience.
But the recollection did not seem to darken Pa, his smile only slightly sad. He reached behind Adam and momentarily cupped the back of his neck.
“Why do you ask, Joe?”
“Because it was my turn to come up with a question.”
As understanding dawned in Pa’s eyes, Joe looked back and forth expectantly between Hoss and Adam.
The game continued until they were too tired to play anymore, each of them sharing and laughing and reminiscing; favorite sound, favorite holiday, favorite vacation, favorite smell.
At some point, Adam’s head bobbed and he popped right back up, trying to hide he’d been falling asleep, but they’d all caught him; Pa recommended they call it a night after they finished the final round of questions, their favorite gift.
“Each of your mothers- and the Lord, too, I suppose, as He willed it- gave me each of you. I cannot imagine a better gift to have been blessed with. Now,” he said, catching Adam yawning, “it really is time to rest.”
Hoss laid back on his bedroll as Pa situated his own to enclose the square around the campfire, and as Joe and Adam playfully kicked at each other, saying to the other to get his feet off of his bedroll.
This was his favorite feeling, Hoss knew. His family were his favorite people in the whole wide world.
