Fare Thee Well, Part Ten

by J. Rosemary Moss

Genre: Fan Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG-13

LINK TO PART ONE

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A short while later Hoss was standing in the rectory of St. Mary's in the Mountains. Adam and Little Joe were up talking to the priest—he was probably going over the ceremony with them. Pa was sitting with Roy Coffee and Doc Martin and that nice Irish girl who was going to stand up for Charlotte.

Hoss sighed. It was such a small crowd. But so many people wouldn’t approve of the wedding because of Charlotte’s race—so only the Cartwrights and their closest friends were present.

Hoss started fidgeting with the tin cup. There wasn’t much to do except wait for Charlotte to show. She should be arriving with the Widow Hawkins any minute now.

The ceremony would be right here in the rectory. Adam and Charlotte couldn’t have a regular wedding Mass because Adam wasn’t Catholic.

Hoss was secretly relieved that there’d be no Mass. He always felt intimidated by all that Latin. Yeah, you could follow the translation along in one of those Missal books, but he always lost his place.

And that reminded him. There’d probably be a few prayers and they’d probably do that sign of the cross. Now how did that go? He never went to Catholic services—except once a year for Marie’s memorial Mass.

Hoss switched the tin cup into his left hand and frowned in an effort of memory. First you touched your forehead, then your heart—then was it your right shoulder followed by your left? He made the motions with his right hand, trying to figure it out.

"You touch your left shoulder first and then your right," someone whispered in a lilting Irish accent.

He turned toward the voice and found himself facing a stranger. It was a young man—Hoss reckoned him to be about Joe’s age. He was about the same build as Joe and he had hazel eyes like him too. His hair, however, was a dirty blonde.

Those hazel eyes were sparkling with laughter. Hoss gave him a grateful smile. "Thanks," he said. "I can never remember."

The stranger returned his smile and looked him up and down. Hoss might have imagined it, but he would swear the fellow glanced fondly at the old tin cup.

"You must be Adam’s middle brother," the young man said.

"I am," he answered as he held out his right hand. "Name’s Hoss."

Before the stranger could accept his hand there was a commotion at the front of the rectory. Charlotte had arrived.

Everyone rose to look at the bride. Hoss let his hand drop as he thought how beautiful and happy she looked.

Her dress had that yellowed look that silk gets with age, but Hoss thought it made her mocha skin glow. And that hoop skirt sure did show off her figure.

Well, he shouldn’t be surprised. She was a modiste, after all, so she should know a thing or two about making flattering dresses.

The young Irishman let out a low whistle. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph," he whispered. "Antoinette is all grown up."

Hoss was about to correct him, to tell him that her name was Charlotte. But then he remembered that Antoinette really was her first name—she just preferred her middle one.

He turned his attention back to Charlotte. There wasn’t much of an aisle for her to walk down, but she crossed toward Adam and smiled up at him, allowing her hoop skirt to sway gracefully in her wake. Hoss almost got choked up as he watched his older brother take her hands and beam down at her.

He sighed. "Maybe Adam should have converted," he said softly. "It would have been nice for these two to have a real church wedding."

The Irisher grinned. "No, Adam would take the Church far too seriously. Right now, don't you see, he can dismiss all our foibles and idiosyncrasies with a tolerant shrug. But they’d annoy him to no end if he had to deal with them as a parishioner."

Hoss considered that. There was probably something to the young man’s words. He wondered how this fellow knew his brother so well.

Just then the priest started the service. "In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti," he began.

Hoss forgot about the fellow as he successfully crossed himself and turned his mind to the ceremony.

LINK TO PART ELEVEN