Coffee

Adam Cartwright stood at the edge of the boardwalk, hands in his pockets, as he waited patiently for stage to arrive. He kept a close watch on his youngest brother Joe, who he’d brought along with him. 

“Adam, why can’t I go get some candy now?”

“The stage will be here any minute.”

“But, I’d just be goin’ down to the mercantile,” he complained. “It ain’t that far.” Joe was almost eleven years old and didn’t understand why his family didn’t see that he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. His friend Mitch’s brother said he knew a gal who was married at twelve, so if Joe was almost old enough to get married why couldn’t he go to the mercantile by himself?

“Don’t worry, I promise we’ll stop there before we head home.”

With a loud sigh, Joe plopped down on the steps at Adam’s feet, resigned to waiting.

A few minutes later, a familiar rumble could be heard in the near distance and shortly thereafter the stagecoach rounded the corner then slowed and finally stopped in front of the hotel.

“Elijah!” shouted Adam when a tall, well-dressed man stepped down from the stage.  Joe figured this friend must be pretty special ‘cause he hardly ever saw his mostly-serious brother look so boyishly happy.

“Adam!” The man laughed jubilantly, a deep booming sound that immediately warmed Joe’s soul and brought a smile to his face. Elijah reached for and grasped Adam’s hand in a firm handshake. “It’s so good to see you!”

Joe watched the two men; they were so different, yet so alike. They were both tall and muscled, with dark hair and sharp eyes. One glance told Joe that Adam’s friend was a dignified, cultured man -- like Adam. Only in Adam’s case, he looked and dressed like the rancher he was; it was after you got to know him that his deep intellectual nature became apparent.

“And who’s this fine young man?” Elijah’s smile was genuine and infectious. He had rich brown eyes, filled with warmth and intelligence. Joe took to him in an instant.

“This is my little brother, Joseph,” answered the elder Cartwright with a touch of pride as he regarded the boy.

Elijah bowed cordially and shook Joe’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Joseph.”

“Pleasure to meet you too, Mr. Thomas.” Joe smiled shyly at the man. “You can just call me Joe.”

“And, you can just call me Elijah,” the man responded with a wink of his eye.

Adam laid an arm across Joe’s shoulder and smiled. “I thought, we’d stop off and get something to drink before we head out to the ranch.”

“That sounds fine to me,” replied Elijah.

They strolled toward the saloon, Joe’s mouth already watering for a sarsaparilla as he listened to Adam and Elijah. The two men talked as if they had been together just yesterday. Joe had to admit that he’d had his reservations about meeting one of Adam’s friends from back east, but this man wasn’t at all the stuffy, snobbish sort that he’d imagined.

They sat down at a table near the door at Carl’s Saloon, a small, quiet establishment that served also as a restaurant. Joe had been there several times before with his pa and brothers. He hoped someday one of them would take him to the Bucket of Blood, but when he’d proposed the idea to his pa, his pa had said ‘Not on your life, Joseph’ so Joe didn’t expect to patronize that particular establishment anytime soon.

Carl, a friendly, middle-aged man immediately approached the small group. “What can I get for you, Adam?”

“I’ll have a beer, Carl. And, Joe here will have a sarsaparilla.” Adam then turned to his friend. “Elijah…?”

“I think I’ll just have a nice, strong cup of coffee.”

“Coffee?” Adam questioned.

“Yes, coffee,” Elijah said, then with a polite smile he looked up at Carl and added, “Please.”

Carl got an uncertain look on his face and he shuffled his feet nervously. “Uh…Adam, I-I’m sorry,” he stammered, perspiration beading on is forehead, “b-but you ought to know w-we don’t serve his kind in here.”

Adam’s cheeks flushed, his eyebrows drew together and he pursed his lips. Joe wasn’t quite sure what was going on, but it was plain to see that his brother was suddenly very angry.

Elijah cleared his throat and nodded to the owner. “I understand.”

“Well, I don’t.” Adam snapped, his dark eyes glinting with anger. “This is ridiculous, Carl. It’s an insult and I--”

“Adam, please. I don’t want any trouble.” Elijah smiled and placed his large, dark hand on top of Adams fist, his eyes pleading for his friend to understand. “Please. Let’s just go.”

Adam bristled, his nostrils flaring as he glanced from Carl, to Elijah, to Joe who had his head tilted to the side and a quizzical expression on his face.  “All right,” Adam finally conceded, giving the owner of the saloon a steely glare as he stood up. “If that’s the way you want it.”

Carl backed away, almost tripping over a chair behind him.

“Thanks, old friend,” Elijah said in a quiet voice, and got to his feet. 

Joe didn’t understand why Carl wouldn’t serve a cup of coffee to Elijah. He’d seen Hop Sing treated the same way at times, and he’d never understood that either. He felt uncomfortable and frustrated and he wanted to question the reasoning for these types of rules. He remembered when the teacher had tried to make him write with his right hand so he wouldn't be different, and Pa had explained to him -- after giving the teacher a good dressin' down -- that some folks just don't understand that bein' different is a good thing. Joe wanted to declare to Carl and everyone else that it wasn’t fair to treat some folks unkindly just because they were different, but instead he turned seemingly innocent eyes on Elijah. “My pa always says the coffee here tastes like poison, and the food’s even worse. But, Hop Sing makes the best coffee in the whole territory of Utah and wait ‘til you taste his cookin’!”

For a moment he wondered if he would be admonished for his disrespectful words.  Adam wasn’t any more prone to tolerating ‘smart remarks’ than Pa was, but when Adam’s mouth twitched and he winked at Elijah, Joe knew this case was going to be an exception.

“We could go to the Bucket of Blood,” he suggested hopefully as they stepped out into the late afternoon sunlight.

One side of Adam's mouth quirked in a half smile. "That, we could."

"Really?" Joe's eyes grew huge.

Adam laughed loudly and slapped him a little too hard on his backside. “Not on your life, buddy.”

back