The Old Deringer, Part Twenty-Eight

by J. Rosemary Moss

Genre: Fan Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG

LINK TO PART ONE

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Spring, 1880

It took me some time to adjust to the Ponderosa—and it took me even to longer to give up the belief that Adam’s family was going to send me away to some orphanage the moment Adam’s back was turned.

Oh, they were kind enough to me—but Mr. Cartwright tended to look askance at me once Adam told him my background. Thank God that didn't happen the first day or I might have high-tailed it out of there. Adam was smart enough to wait till the next morning before he explained the story in detail. And Hoss and Little Joe were considerate enough not to spill anything earlier.

I didn’t understand that Mr. Cartwright might have legitimate concerns about housing a boy who had held up his son at gunpoint. All I knew was that he shot worried looks at Adam periodically.

Of the three, I suppose I got on with Hoss best. He showed me how to chop firewood, which everyone in the big house does their share of. Wielding that axe properly is harder than it looks, but I remember Hoss sharing all his secrets with me.

As for Mr. Cartwright—he was good to me, apart from the worried looks. But I tended to shy away from any overtures he made. It took me a long time to warm up to him.

And as for Joe—well, he managed to impinge my fragile eleven-year-old honor, and that was a hard thing to forgive.

Funny how I came to be so close to all three of them as time went on—although I never quite lost my fear of Mr. Cartwright. Well, not fear. Let’s call it a healthy respect. At any event, they all rushed to my aid during the Becky crisis.

Spring, 1864

Liam frowned a little at the house that was to become his home. Someday he would see it as a warm and welcoming respite from city-life, but for now it looked rustic and completely foreign to the grand San Francisco mansions.

He had kept quiet on the ride home in the buckboard. He just made a comfortable seat for himself out of a couple of sacks of flour and listened to Adam talk to his brothers. Then he closed his eyes, relieved that no one was paying any attention to him at the moment. He didn’t want to stop conversation again by saying the wrong thing.

Mr. Cartwright came out of the house as Adam was helping Liam out of the conveyance. Adam handed Liam his crutches and made sure that his footing was secure before turning to embrace his father. When they broke apart, Adam stepped back to introduce Liam.

Mr. Cartwright nodded and smiled at him. Liam gave him a tentative smile in return and then followed Adam inside.

Adam motioned him to take a seat in the great room, but Liam waited to take Adam’s coat and hat first and hang them up. Somehow he managed it while still holding onto his crutches. Adam grinned and tousled his hair.

Liam made his way over to the fireplace and took a seat on the edge of it. He watched Little Joe sit down on the settee and put his feet up on the table.

“Feet off the table, Joseph,” Mr. Cartwright said as he took out a pipe and selected some tobacco.

“Sorry, Pa,” Joe said sheepishly as he put his feet firmly on the floor. Then he glanced over at Liam.

“Do you want to learn how to be a ranch hand?” he asked, smiling at him. “There’s plenty of things you can do now—and you’ll be able to bust broncos and go on cattle drives eventually.”

But Liam shook his head. “I’m Adam’s valet,” he said matter-of-factly. He still pronounced ‘valet’ after the British fashion, so that it rhymed with ‘pallet.’

Mr. Cartwright seemed to choke a little at that. “Your valet?” he asked Adam, who was sitting down on another chair.

Adam nodded. “It’s high time I hired one,” he said easily. “Especially since I handle so many of the business deals for the Ponderosa—can’t hurt to look my best.”

Hoss, who had just eased himself into a big chair, gave Liam a puzzled frown. “What’s a valet?” he asked.

“It’s a kind of personal servant that men have, sir. It means that I’ll wash and press Adam’s clothes, lay them out, polish his shoes, draw his baths, shave him—”

Liam broke off in confusion, because Hoss was staring at him incredulously.

Little Joe burst out laughing. “I think he means ‘valet,’” he said, pronouncing the word ‘va-LAY,’ as many Americans did.

But that was a pronunciation that Liam had never heard. It wasn’t the way Adam or Mr. Harris or Katie pronounced the word, at any rate.

Joe, meanwhile, was turning to Adam and shaking his head at him. “Older brother, what kind of ideas did you put into this poor kid’s head?” Then he turned back to Liam. “Most men don’t need a valet fussing over them," he insisted. "God knows I don’t—why don’t you learn how to do something useful instead?”

Liam smarted at that. He looked Joe straight in the eye as he responded. “Most men—like you, sir—don’t need a valet,” he agreed. “Only men of consequence do.”

Joe’s mouth dropped open. Mr. Cartwright, on the other hand, seemed to stifle a laugh by turning it into a cough. And Hoss just laughed outright at his little brother.

Adam, meanwhile, was grinning appreciatively. “Excellent point, Liam,” he said.

Little Joe rolled his eyes as he recoverd. “I suppose you think Pa doesn’t have enough consequence for a 'valet?'” he asked Adam, changing to the British pronunciation.

And, Liam thought, mocking him by doing so.

“No, Pa should certainly have a valet,” Adam said. He had an odd expression on his face—Liam couldn’t tell if he was in earnest or playing some kind of game.

“Liam can double up to some extent,” Adam continued, “but that will be more difficult once he’s in school.” He paused and turned to his father. “You really ought to think about hiring your own man.”

“I’ll give it some thought,” Mr. Cartwright said dryly.

“Good,” Adam said, winking at him. “Come on, Liam—let me show you your room.”

“Why don’t you put him below stairs?” Joe asked with a pointed look at his older brother.

“Joe!” Hoss admonished.

Liam felt himself bristle up. “I’ll stay below stairs,” he said, narrowing his eyes at Joe. “My sister, my father and my mother were all in service at some point in their lives. They all lived below stairs and never minded it. Or I’ll stay in Adam’s room—whichever he pleases.”

Joe seemed to soften at that. “We don’t have any servant’s quarters below stairs,” he told Liam. “I was only joshing Adam. Besides, if you’re going to have older brother for a master you deserve the best room we can give you.”