Synopsis: Inspired by The Mother of All Challenges, to write a story featuring one or more of the Cartwrights in any time period (prequel, season 1-14, sequel, AU), in which Virginia City is an integral part of the tale.
Category: Bonanza
Genre: Western, prequel
Rating: K
Word Count: 4,030
This is my story.
Virginia City, Nevada — Home of the Comstock Lode. A place where things happen twenty-four hours a day. Thirty thousand people called it home at the peak of the gold and silver rush. A boom town!
*****
Those were the facts, but I remember a time well before those days; the day a man and his two young sons arrived in a covered wagon drawn by two oxen and a horse tethered to the back. The often repaired, weather-worn wagon with wheels of different colors and multiple patches on its canvas had seen better days. Considering the distance traveled and amount of time it had taken, it was a miracle that it carried them through their journey.
The small family sat high on the bench seat. Sitting straighter, stretching muscles tired and sore from sitting in one place for so long, the man surveyed their surroundings. The older boy held on to the seat with one hand while the other hand wrapped its way around the younger child who sat squeezed between his family members. The smaller boy appeared happy, clapping his hands as the wagon stopped.
Like others who traveled the trails that brought them west, all their worldly possessions were carefully stowed within the confines of the wooden sides and canvas tarp. There were also boxes containing their provisions strapped to the outside, along with the water barrels.
The man leaned over and spoke to the two boys before climbing down and walking towards the center of activity.
A few soldiers milled around the tent marked Land Office; none blocked the man’s way to enter. Fifteen minutes later, he stepped back into the sunshine and shook hands with the gentleman who followed him out.
*****
“Pa?” the dark-haired youth inquired of his father.
“What is it, Adam?” The man replied, reaching to take hold of the seat for balance to pull himself up.
“Are we through traveling?”
“Almost son. Just a little while longer. We need to purchase a few supplies and make a few arrangements, then we’ll head out to our new home.”
“Home?” spoke the fair-haired child, who happily clapped while repeating the word.
“Yes Hoss. By nightfall the three of us will finally be home.”
The man unwound the reins from the brake handle, while the older boy hugged his brother securely.
*****
His sons joined him on his weekly excursions into the settlement to barter the hides of animals he had trapped and skinned in exchange for supplies – food and clothing for his family. Occasionally a book or a toy for the boys were included in the order. When the pelts wouldn’t cover the full cost of his expenses, he worked to make up the difference.
When he wasn’t trapping, the man toiled at clearing the land where their small homestead would be built. Over the course of the next few months, he befriended a number of men who, come the day for building his home, showed up with saw blades, axes, hammers, and anything else that might be required. By the end of the weekend, a small, but sturdy home stood nestled among the tall pines, and a friendship just as strong grew between Ben Cartwright and Jean DeMarigny.
*****
Voices carried beyond the canvas walls of the saloons, out onto the night breezes a year later when they told of Jean DeMarigny dying in Ben’s arms after a freak accident. Many a man remembered their own strong friendships and the memories of a lost love and wondered, would they have agreed to personally inform a man’s wife of his passing had they been in Ben’s shoes.
With his boys staying with friends who had family of their own, Ben left that spring to travel to New Orleans.
By fall, Ben Cartwright returned to our small community with a young woman’s hand nervously holding tight to the crook of his arm. The man introduced her, to those who stopped to say hello, as Mrs. Ben Cartwright, Marie Cartwright.
*****
Many in the growing community scorned the woman due to her differences, and her condition; her presence in town was improper and immoral. Her style and nature of clothing only served to accentuate she was no longer chaste. They believed a woman should secrete away, securely hide within the walls of her home, rather than to advertise events that transpire between man and woman. To them, it was blasphemy for her to come to town. It just wasn’t discussed among decent folks; and so she was ignored whenever possible.
Such was not he case of a man who stepped off the stage one afternoon and inadvertently bumped into the woman slightly huddled over and grabbing her abdomen
“My apologies, I wasn’t watching where I was going.” Pausing only a moment, he offered a supporting hand while she stood straight. “Are you alright? How far along are you?”
“That is quite presumptuous of you.” Ben Cartwright exited the mercantile, and wrapped a protective arm around his wife’s shoulders.
“I meant no disrespect, sir. I’m a medical doctor. My only concern is for this woman’s well-being and that of her unborn child.”
“My apologies, it’s just that this town rough and somewhat vulgar at times.”
“Ben, I’m alright,” answered Marie, patting her husband’s vested chest before turning to the doctor. “Thank you for your concern, but I’m still a month away from when the mid-wife says this little one should make an appearance. And if this he hadn’t kicked me so hard, I’m sure my husband would not be remiss in his duties to introduce ourselves.”
The man had the good humor to blush at the chastisement received from his wife. He extended his hand to the stranger. “I’m Ben Cartwright and this is my wife, Marie.”
“Please to meet you. I’m Paul Martin, Doctor Paul Martin.”
“Are you here to set up an office in town?” Ben inquired.
“No. The stage encountered trouble and from what I’ve been told, it might be a few days before the repairs are completed.” The physician noted the grimace flash across Marie’s face, her hand again strayed to her belly. “The stage driver said the Eagle Hotel would have a room for the duration of my stay.”
“It’s the best this town has to offer,” Ben sorely boasted. Feeling his wife tremble in his arms, “I don’t mean to be rude, but we have a long trip back to the Ponderosa and I would prefer to have my wife home before dark.”
“It was nice meeting you, Dr. Martin.” Marie offered her hand.
“Paul.” Graciously accepting her hand, “And if you need anything while I’m in town. Just let me know.”
*****
Raucous noises from the saloons increased in volume as night settled over the town; the tinny piano, laughter, shouts, and gun fire.
After a pleasant dinner, Paul Martin entered his hotel room in the two-story building. Barely having time to remove his waistcoat, he turned at the sound of someone pounding on the door.
“DOC! We need you! DOC! Are you in there?!” the voice frantic.
Paul opened the door to find an out-of-breath boy, of approximately twelve years of age, standing on the other side. The youth was in the process of once more striking the side of his fisted hand onto the door. Not expecting the door to open so quickly, the youth’s momentum propelled him forward.
“Son, what it is? What’s wrong?” Supporting the boy to keep him from falling, Paul quickly glanced out the doorway.
“It’s Marie. Pa sent me to find you. She’s hurting something fierce!” The words tumbled from the youth’s mouth.
“What’s your name, son?” Paul relaxed his grip once the boy regained his balance.
“Please Doc, ya gotta come!” The boy grabbed for the man’s hand fearing he wouldn’t come.
“Don’t fret. Just let me get my medical bag.” With bag in hand he turned towards the door. “Are you Ben Cartwright’s son?”
“We don’t have time for that. Please Doc! Marie needs you,” he pleaded and pulled the physician along.
‘He must be Ben’s son. And evidently Marie is his step-mother,’ mused the good doctor. It didn’t surprise the physician. From his own personal experience he knew how difficult life was for women. Too many died during childbirth, leaving fathers to raise a child alone, if the babe survived.
*****
The owner of the hotel met them in the lobby, “Didn’t know if you knew how to ride, so I sent Horace to the livery, they’re getting a horse and buggy ready for you. And by the way, this young man,” he followed behind with both hands on the boy’s shoulder to help steady and calm him down, “is Adam, Ben Cartwright’s son.”
“I thought as much.” Paul Martin followed the proprietor out to the boardwalk.
With his heart pounding in his chest from his horse-back gallop to town and his fears for Marie, Adam bolted forward at the sight of the vacant spot in front of the hotel. “Where’s Beauty?!” He stood looking every which way, both hands gripping tight upon the wooden hitching rail.
Returning a comforting hand upon Adam, “Horace took Beauty to the livery for the night. You ride back home with the doctor. That horse don’t need to be rode no more tonight, he done his job getting you here.”
Moments later, Adam climbed into the buggy and grabbed the reins. Barely waiting for the physician to settle back, he encouraged the horse into a fast trot towards home.
*****
The doctor’s hotel room stayed unoccupied for two days. The stagecoach that caused the fortuitous layover had departed long before Ben Cartwright drove the horse and buggy back to town with his buckskin horse tied to the back.
Shaking the physician’s hand, “I can’t thank you enough. You saved my wife’s life, as well as that of my son.”
“I’m glad I was here and could help.”
“Paul, is there any way to convince you to stay? A man of your skills…. we need you here.”
“I don’t know…. I had plans for San Francisco.”
*****
By the end of the following week, a new sign proclaiming Paul Martin, M.D. hung from a lamppost in front of a modest two-story home surrounded by a white picket fence.
*****
Christmas that year dawned gloriously as Fall held Winter at bay. Most everyone in town turned out to attend church services. People paused before hurrying inside the white-washed building; the anticipated snow was absent, but the temperatures were quite brisk. After recognizing the latest family to arrive, the citizenry figured they could greet the newest Cartwright inside, where it was warm.
Ben Cartwright stepped from the carriage and turned, expecting to assist his wife down. Instead, he accepted the bundle containing his newest son and watched with pride as his eldest boy offered his hand to Marie. With her arm transferred to the crook of Adam’s elbow they stepped to the boardwalk while Ben heard Hoss jump down. Proudly, he followed his family inside to give thanks.
Forgetting their earlier animosity towards the mother-to-be, the women gushed over the sleeping infant returned to nestle in Marie’s arms while Ben accepted hearty congratulations from the men.
*****
The community mourned years later, after the tragic accident that claimed the life of Marie Cartwright. Many made the trek from town to attend her burial and offer their condolences to the grieving family.
However, there were those whose words about the young woman weren’t kind. Friends of Ben Cartwright staunchly spoke on behalf of the devastated husband and father, but the rumors and innuendos flourished during the man’s subsequent absence.
*****
Ben Cartwright returned to a changed community, more and more men had come to seek their fortune. Men who drank in excess over their back-breaking toils that saw little to no return on their effort. Ears listened while mouths with no censor repeated and exaggerated any tale they heard; a case of bitter and vile one-upmanship.
The kind and loving heart turned cynical and cold as the rumors persisted and grew, and threatened his family. The tales spouted in jealousy and loathing also stabbed at his first-born son; now safely on his way to his grandfather in Boston to attend his first year of college.
*****
A rider from the Ponderosa raced into town seeking Paul Martin. Once the physician was out of sight, the man marched to the saloon and laid more than just his eyes on his intended target.
The foreman stood over the drunken, blow-hard who now lay bloody and unconscious at his feet. The man’s slack-jawed buddies stood pressed against the canvas walls of the saloon, expressions of disbelief mirrored man to man.
With a heaving chest and fists still clenched the man from the Ponderosa proclaimed, “Let this be a warning to every man of ya who says anything against the Cartwrights. They done nothin’ to deserve the disrespect you heap on them. That young ‘en didn’t need to hear your ugly rumors about his ma, or his brother.”
“What about the boy?” the bartender inquired; his attention momentarily focused on the man in the middle of the room, and away from who was going to pay for the damages.
Not settled from his exertions, breathily he answered, “Little Joe ran away sometime after he and his Pa got home from picking up supplies yesterday.” The man paused at the feminine gasp. “We found him, thank God. No thanks to you ‘good’ citizens. You ain’t got no call to take your pettiness out on a child. You best pray the doc can patch him up.”
A gentle hand placed on his arm pulled his anger away the others. “Charlie, what happened?” He looked into the brown eyes of a young woman dressed in gaudy clothes with too much makeup painted on her face, but her expression and words conveyed sincerity.
“Doc’s on his way to the Ponderosa to have a look at him. We don’t know what’s wrong. He won’t speak, doesn’t seem he knows anyone. Ben found him out at Eagle’s Nest, all we know is he took a tumble.” Charlie shook his head and quieted.
Memories of his employer riding into the clearing, bearing the small, battered figure wrapped in a blanket in his arms, stoked the fires of anger once more. He pulled away from the saloon girl.
“Every last man of ya had better pray for that boy. And while yer doin’ that, ya best figure out how you’re gonna shore your mine holes and how you’re gonna eat. The Ponderosa’s done with the lot of you!”
Strolling to where he left his horse, the man never looked back as he rode from town.
‘Damn if that wasn’t the best fight I ever had the pleasure of witnessing.’
*****
As the years passed, the town grew. The citizens looked to the future. No little shanty town should lay claim to being the heart of the Comstock Lode after the discovery of silver and gold. The name changed, and Virginia City began to build saloons that were real buildings, as well as other establishments that came with the influx of single men.
As the people and businesses flourished, construction was a constant. Signs for numerous cafés and restaurants hung from the buildings along main street. There were stores selling wares and also sorts of goods lining the streets too. The town even built a church, and welcomed a circuit preacher who oversaw our spiritual needs every sixth Sunday, at least until a time we could claim one of our own. Ultimately, the town’s folks demanded a sheriff’s office and jail.
Virginia City’s explosive growth drove a need for laborers; foreshadowing the arrival the immigrant worker.
The continued influx of families warranted the need for a school, and a teacher. Those without families vastly outnumber those with children, and couldn’t see the need for building a separate building to house a school. So, Monday through Friday the church served as a school room. The girls seemed excited to learn and eagerly sat on the bench seats with their slates and chalk in hand. The boys were a different story, many begrudging the fact they no longer could run free during the day or work to help their families. Joe Cartwright fell into the first category of boys, while his brother Hoss fell into the latter.
With their father’s words that his sons would have a good education and his boasting of their older brother’s accomplishments ringing in their ears, they came each day. Well, almost every day; there were the times where one was sick or the working ranch required an extra hand, or the snowfall was just too deep. And unfortunately, there was the occasional case of playing hooky. Everyone clear to the outskirts of town could hear Ben Cartwright bellow after arriving at the school intent on accompanying a son home, only to find the boy truant.
“Watching the youth arrive in town the following school day always proved interesting.”
*****
The rumors surrounding Marie and the snide comments about Adam diminished long before the eldest son returned home with his degree in engineering. During his absence, the Ponderosa had more than doubled in size and complexity.
Ben drove the buggy to the side of the stage depot, while his sons stepped down from their horses and tied the reins to the hitching rail across the street. People tried not to stare, but they knew it would be interesting to watch this reunion; wondering if Adam Cartwright would recognize either of his brothers. Hoss was growing almost as tall as the trees for which their land took its name, and his girth had grown as well.
“Seems their cook does a right fine job. As for the youngest? Well, Little Joe sure had grown, not nearly as much as his brother, but no longer was he a little child.”
Standing away from his family, Ben’s youngest leaned against the wall of the stage depot; a myriad of emotions flickered across his face, changing from anxious to confused, to scared, to downright defiant.
Gray clouds that had threatened rain all morning diminished, allowing the bluest of skies to shine through as the six-horse hitch pulled the Overland Stage into town.
Ben and Hoss stood back from the edge of the wooden platform in eager anticipation as they waited for the last passenger to disembark. Hugs, handshakes, and exclamations of disbelief echoed to those who watched from afar after the missing Cartwright finally alighted from within the stage.
The tall, dark-haired man stood back and looked for the one who had yet to make his presence known. Hoss pointed.
“Joe?” Adam’s voice broke at seeing the curly-haired youth. Memories of all the firsts he had experienced with Hoss pushed their way into his mind. Realization struck that his absence was more than just four years’ worth of separation, he had missed being a part of Joe’s growing up.
Within the youth who stood before him he could barely find a hint of the little boy who had clung to him after Marie’s death and Ben’s absence. But the eyes, expressive hazel-green eyes spoke the words the boy didn’t voice; how would his long-absent brother feel about him?
“Hey little buddy, I missed you.”
With his out-stretched hand ignored, Adam wrapped his arms around the brother who fiercely hugged him about the waist.
*****
At times it seemed as if there was an unspoken race between Virginia City and the Ponderosa to see which could grow the fastest. Anything and everything Ben Cartwright touched appeared to turn gold. Not a single investment made a poor showing and the land thrived, as well as the livestock.
Adam’s contributions heralded sound improvements born of design and principle; raising the bar of expectations for all endeavors yet to come. The biggest improvement was the lumber mill built on their land. No longer would the Ponderosa have to rely on someone else’s schedule or the old way of doing a job, just because that’s how it had always been done.
Towns all across the country contain prosperous streets as well as streets that respectable folks voided, and Virginia City was no different. What originally was the main street became relegated to D Street, where the brothels and seedier saloons drew patrons.
The Eagle Hotel became a boarding house, after investors donated funds for constructing a new hotel. Word had gotten out that long before he had left for college that Adam Cartwright had helped design the massive house that now stood as the jewel of the Ponderosa, and so, a committee approached the recent graduate and asked him to design the future the town’s people envisioned.
The International House stood proudly at the epicenter of the growing boom town. There was even talk of constructing a courthouse, to rival those in San Francisco and Sacramento.
*****
Ben Cartwright’s own wealth carefully grew and while being a God-fearing man, he selectively chose those within the community to help; the benefactors of his generosity were the orphans, and the children and widows of those killed in the mines. Everyone knew that events of the past had turned him acrimonious towards strangers and to those who would attempt to take what was rightfully his.
The man was proud of all he had accomplished, not to the point of arrogance, but he and his sons had worked long and hard for what was theirs. Three fine sons he had raised.
“Hoss was the easiest for anyone to understand. As for Adam and Joe, never were two so alike and yet so different.”
*****
Then there was the day the youngest Cartwright came to town all dressed up and looking like a Boston dandy.
“Maybe I should have said, looking like a gentleman gambler, a card sharp, straight from New Orleans.”
Sitting beside him in the horse-drawn buggy sat Miss Lotta Crabtree.
“A fine figure of a woman she was. Guess that explains why Little Joe was driving a carriage from the Ponderosa and had his pinto tethered behind. Didn’t he realize he was going to need to drive the carriage home later? Well, that’s beside the point. What was I saying before? Oh… Yes sir, a fine figure of a woman. She put on a grand performance that night.”
In the privacy of her room at the International House, she waited; keeping the boy occupied and hopefully distracted.
“And then came the three older Cartwrights. Ain’t never seen anything so miss-matched; those thinking themselves the movers and shakers versus the Cartwrights. After dealing with that supposed gunman, they went looking. During his search, Adam put that fine figure of a woman in her place, telling her next time to pick on a man, not a boy.”
Within the tent housing the Chinese laundry, Hop Ling was happy to help hide Hop Sing’s favorite ‘numba three’ son in a large basket of laundry. High pitched and dramatically vocal, he voiced his displeasure at the mess left behind by Alpheus Troy’s henchmen.
“And all the time his family was a worrying about and searching for him, Little Joe was having himself a high-old time. That was right up until his daddy found him dancing with Miss Crabtree, called him a scamp and a rapscallion, and administered a sound thwack while threatening to skin him alive.”
Hoss shouldered Adam forward before leaving the building following after his father and little brother.
“And Adam… well… He sure has some style when it comes to thanking a woman.”
Slowly he walked from the restaurant, mounted his horse, and tipped his hat. The family turned their horses and rode from town; their shouts and hollering echoed along the canyon of buildings.
“I wonder when they’re going to realize their horse and buggy are still at the livery. Life certainly is interesting when the Cartwrights come to town, never dull moment. Me, I think I’ll just sit back and watch it all unfold. Nothing escapes my notice, no matter the time, no matter where within my borders. I always know what’s going on.
“Pull up a chair and sit a while, I’d enjoy the company. What? Who am I? Why, I’m Virginia City, of course. ”
~The End
Episodes used as inspiration:
A Rose for Lotta: Written by: David Dortort
Between Heaven and Earth: written by Ed Adamson
Marie, My Love: written by Anthony Lawrence, Anne Howard Bailey, David Dortort
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