A Rose For Lotta - Missing Scene
by Brown Eyed Girl
Little Joe took the reins for his horse from his brother Hoss, ignoring the look he was getting from the much larger man. He snuck a quick look from under the brim of his hat at his father, but the dim early morning light revealed very little detail. He could tell by the clench of his jaw that his father was still angry - but just how angry would remain to be seen.
They rode off, leaving Adam's horse tied to the hitching post, knowing he would catch up to them soon. His dalliance wouldn't last long, but even a man who kept his emotions as tightly controlled as Adam had been unable to resist the charms of one Lotta Crabtree. Little Joe planned to use that as part of his defense when the time came to answer for his actions during the past few hours. The trio quickly turned their horses toward the long rode back to the Ponderosa, with Pa in the lead and Hoss and Joe riding side by side. As his father's horse slipped around a bend, Joe cautiously leaned over to his brother.
"So, exactly how much trouble am I in, older brother?" he asked nervously.
Hoss gave him a speculative look. "Well, little brother, I wouldn't count on seeing the city limits of Virginia City for some time to come. I 'spect Pa is going to keep you pretty close to the ranch for a while at least. I don't reckon I can recall a time when he's been so worried and so steamed up all at once."
Little Joe's mouth twisted in disgust. "Thanks for the encouragement. Maybe I should just ride back to town and have the Sheriff lock me up in the jail. At least then I'd be able to hear what's going on in town!"
"If I were you , little brother, I wouldn't even think of heading back that way. Tensions are running mighty high right now, and you plum near plopped yourself right in the middle of things."
"Sheesh!! I was kidding! You don't seriously think I'd test Pa when he's this mad, do you?"
"Frankly, Little Joe, nothing you do amazes me anymore. I've never known anyone so hell-bent on teasing a rattler like you do when you deliberately disobey Pa."
Little Joe squirmed uncomfortably in his saddle. "It's not like I try to get into trouble! It's just that there's nothing to do all the way out there on the ranch if you don't stir things up a bit!"
Hoss just shook his head at the eternal foolishness of youth, conveniently forgetting that it hadn't been all that long since Pa had had a few stern words with him over some act of mischief. They both turned when they heard a horse coming fast behind them, hands automatically going to their guns. Open road or not, this was rough country and it was always better to be safe than sorry. They both visibly eased when they realized it was Adam. He rode up beside them and slowed his horse to match their rhythm.
"I got to hand it to you, little brother. When you pick a mess to get into, you sure do it right. That Lotta was some woman."
Joe grimaced again. "Sure, rub it in. I spent so long trying to get away from the Timbermen association goons that I never really got to talk to her - or anything else for that matter!"
Adam made a tsking noise in his throat. "Now, Little Joe, she was too much woman for you, and you know it. You were way out of your league. It's just a good thing we found you when we did - might have turned out to be a rather embarrassing evening for you," he finished, his tone saying what his words did not.
Little Joe was already mortified beyond belief at being dragged away from Miss Crabtree by his extremely irate father, and his temper flared at his brother's casually derisive remarks. "You take that back, Adam, or I swear, I'll make you eat those words!"
"Oh, really? And just how do you plan to do that?"
Forgetting all semblance of good judgment, not to mention the fact that his father was just a few hundred yards ahead, Little Joe launched himself from his saddle and tackled his older brother, sending them both crashing to the ground. Within seconds, Hoss was off his horse, too, trying desperately to separate the swirling mass on the ground into the two distinct bodies of his brothers.
The two rolled in the dirt for a few moments until Hoss was able to snag the back of Joe's jeans and haul him upright. Joe was still swinging wildly, but Hoss had no trouble avoiding the blows from his much smaller brother. His soothing words were having no effect on the younger man, but a loud voice suddenly filling the air did.
"JOSEPH!! ADAM!! What is the meaning of this?"
All three Cartwright sons stopped moving instantly at their father's steely voice. He sat in his saddle above them, glaring down at them, his face furious.
Adam wiped some of the dirt from his face and eyed his baby brother. "Sorry, Pa. Little Joe just disagreed with something I said and decided to pick a fight."
"Is this true, Joseph?" his father asked, turning his stern face toward his youngest son. Little Joe glared at Adam before responding.
"Yeah, it's true," he finally muttered.
"Excuse me?" his father asked dangerously.
Joe gulped and stood a little straighter. "I mean, yes, sir, Pa."
"Well, let me tell you something, young man - you're in enough trouble right now without picking fights. So I'd suggest you get back on your horse and get moving so we can make it home before noon. After you apologize to your brother, of course."
Joe scowled, but he knew better than to argue. He picked up both his hat and Adam's from where they had fallen and handed it to his brother. "Sorry, Adam," he said, trying to force a sincerity he didn't feel.
"It's all right, little brother. I know how cranky you get when you haven't had a good night's sleep," Adam replied easily. Joe tensed at the barbed remark. With his father watching intently, he couldn't say anything, however, so he simply hopped back on Cochise and gave the reins a jerk, turning the horse towards home once again.
His father rode abreast of him for the remainder of the trip, but he said little, obviously deciding the lecture could wait until after they returned home. The sun was well up by the time they reached the main house, and they could see the ranch hands starting their day.
They turned their horses over to the nearest hand to be cared for and wearily made their way inside. Hop Sing came bustling in from the kitchen, chattering in his odd mixture of Mandarin and English. He brandished his cooking spoon at Little Joe, obviously delivering a scolding, but Joe could only make out about every tenth word. He finally shrugged and bowed deeply to the tiny man, trying to convey his profound apologies. The cook muttered a few more words, and turned back to the kitchen, promising to have breakfast ready in a few minutes. This pronouncement brought a huge smile to Hoss' face.
"I tell you, I'm ready for about a dozen eggs and a stack of flapjacks about yeh high," he said, holding his hands at least 2 feet off the ground.
"Dieting today?" his older brother teased.
"Well, let's get cleaned up. Hungry or not, I don't think Hop Sing will let us near the table until we wash away some of this trail dust," their father said firmly. Within a few minutes, they returned to the table, finding it groaning with a huge breakfast. With the exception of Little Joe, they all dug in and ate with relish, but Joe only choked down a few bites and sipped his coffee.
"What's the matter, Joseph? Not hungry?" his father asked, peering at him over the rim of his coffee cup.
"Uh, no sir, not really," Joe responded weakly. "You know," he continued hesitantly, I just wanted to apologize for making you come after me..."
"We'll discuss it after we've all had some sleep, Joseph," his father cut in sharply. "It's been a busy night, and I think the best thing we could do now is get some rest." Turning to his oldest son, he said, "Adam, before you turn in, why don't you check with the foreman and make sure he knows we need that new holding pen finished by the end of the week."
"We talked about it earlier in the week, but I'll make sure he remembers. And you know, since I'm up anyway, I think that I might ride up to the high ridge and see how that dam is holding out."
His father shook his head. "There's plenty of time to check that later. We've all been up all night and that's a good recipe for trouble."
"Pa, I'll catch a nap later. I'm wide awake, and I'd really like to see if the dam survived that rain storm last week intact," Adam said reasonably.
"It's an hour's ride in each direction, Adam, and if it didn't hold ,we'll have to wait for next week to get the proper supplies we need to repair it, anyway. Right now, I think it's more important to get some rest. Go on out and talk to Ned, and I'll expect to see you back here in 20 minutes," his father said sternly. Adam knew it was an argument he was unlikely to win, so he excused himself from the table, anxious to catch the foreman before he left for the morning.
The remaining three Cartwrights thanked Hop Sing for the meal and made their way out of the dining room. Little Joe trudged wearily up the steps, his long night catching up to him. Hoss gave his shoulder a sympathetic squeeze as he followed him up.
"Sleep well, little brother. I'm sure after Pa has had some rest, he won't be nearly so angry," he said, turning into his own room.
Privately, Little Joe thought that that was highly optimistic, but he appreciated the sentiment. He went into his own room and pulled off his boots, flopping down on the bed. How could he have gotten himself into such a mess? Sighing, he stretched out more comfortably and fell asleep.
He came awake slowly a few hours later, unsure how much time had passed. The house was quiet, and he could tell by the angle of the sun that it was long past noon. He lay motionless for a few minutes, enjoying the calm before what was sure to be a huge storm. He glanced down, surprised to find that someone, most likely Pa, had pulled his coverlet over him while he slept. The knowledge brought a small smile to his face. No matter how angry his father might be with him, he always took the time to make sure he was well cared for. With a heavy heart, he threw off the blanket and pulled on his boots. As he did so, he heard the downstairs clock chime three. He was surprised to have slept so long, but then again, yesterday had been quite an adventurous day!
He trudged downstairs, pausing when he saw his father sitting at his desk in the alcove, going over some paperwork. His brothers were no where to be seen. He cleared his throat nervously, his stomach doing a slow roll when his father looked up.
"Oh, there you are, Joe. I was wondering if we were going to have to wake you for dinner."
"Guess I was pretty tired," Little Joe mumbled. "Where are Hoss and Adam? Still asleep?"
"Oh, no, they've been up for hours. Hoss is checking on the stock in the north pasture, and Adam rode out to take a look at that dam he's been so worried about."
Little Joe was relieved that his brothers were away from the house. It was hard enough to endure one of Pa's tongue-lashings without having an audience nearby. He shifted nervously from foot to foot, wondering if he should try once again to apologize or if it was better to wait for his father to begin.
His father very deliberately set down the quill he was writing with and fixed his youngest son with a stern glare. "I guess it's time you and I had a discussion, boy."
Little Joe cringed at his father's words. He hated it when his father referred to him as 'boy', especially when he used that tone.
"Yes, sir, Pa," he answered, his voice squeaking the way it had a few years ago when it had first begun to change.
His father stood slowly, raising himself to his full and intimidating height. He placed both hands on the desk and leaned forward to glare at his hapless son.
"I don't suppose you need me to tell you that taking off for Virginia City with Miss Crabtree was pure foolishness, do you? Or that the timber men have just been waiting for a situation like this to trap one of you boys alone so they could have a little leverage to get me to sell to them? Or that being more interested in your own childish pleasures than in making sure your family knew you were safe was just plain selfish?"
His father's tone had become louder with each question and he was practically shouting by the time he had finished listing Joe's transgressions.
"I'm sorry, Pa," Joe whispered, his head bowed.
"Sorry? You think you can cause this type of trouble and simply say 'you're sorry?'"
Joe looked up at his father, tears sparkling in the corners of his eyes. "No, sir. I know I've got some punishment coming."
His father snorted. "Well, that much is certain. I think spending the next three weeks confined to the ranch will be a good reminder for you. And just to make sure you don't grow too bored, I'll write out a list of extra chores for you to do each day and leave it with the foreman. He'll see to it that they're done to his standards, or I'll know the reason why."
Little Joe sighed inwardly. Three weeks confined to the ranch meant he would miss the Autumn Harvest dance in town. Easily the biggest social event of the season. And he hated when Pa involved the foreman in his punishments. Word always spread through the bunkhouse that Joe was in disgrace, and he had to endure weeks of teasing. Still, considering the magnitude of his crime, he couldn't help feeling like he was getting off easy.
Determined to show his father that he could accept the punishment for his crimes like a man, without complaint, he squared his shoulders and looked him right in the eye. "I'll make sure they're done properly, Pa. I won't let you down."
His father nodded. "See that you don't, Joseph. Now, there's the matter of you disobeying me. Not to mention that appalling display with your brother on the way home."
Joe's eyes flew wide. He hadn't realized that his father was going to consider those matters separately.
"I'm sorry, Pa. It won't happen again," he rushed to reassure the older man.
"You know the penalty for deliberate disobedience in this house, young man," his father said evenly.
Joe felt his knees turn to water. The last time he'd been guilty of disobeying his father had been almost a year ago, but the details were still as sharp in his mind as if it had happened only yesterday. Pa had marched him out to the barn and used his strap on him until Joe was sure he'd have to give up ever riding a horse again. The remembered humiliation caused his cheeks to flame.
Ben Cartwright stared at his son, feeling a twinge of guilt at the terror his words had obviously inspired. He shook off the feeling with determination. This country was simply too rough and unforgiving for a young man hell bent on pursuing his own brand of fun. Like it or not, Joe would have to learn that complete obedience was the only option. Without taking his eyes off the now-trembling boy, he reached down and extracted the thick leather strap from the bottom drawer of his desk. It had gotten quite a bit of use over the last few years, but in the recent past, it had stayed in the drawer. The last time Ben had put it away, he had made sure it had been given an especially good oiling, hoping it wouldn't be pulled out again for a long time. Unfortunately, that was not the case.
"All right, Joseph. Let's get this taken care of."
Little Joe's eyes darted back and forth between his father's face and the strap now coiled in his hand. "Please, Pa! I'm too old for that now! I swear to you, I've learned my lesson. I'll never go off without your permission again!"
"I'm sorry, son, but young men often make empty promises. The only way to ensure that you'll keep your word is to make sure you don't like the consequences of breaking it. Now, the men will be returning before too long, and I'm sure you'd rather have this taken care of before they do, so let's go." He came around the side of the desk and took his son firmly by the elbow.
"Pa! Please!" Joe said again, his voice breaking on the words. He dreaded the feel of that strap on his backside and he was now wishing fervently that he had stayed home yesterday as he'd been expected to.
"Joseph, you knew you were disobeying and you chose to anyway. That type of behavior deserves only one response. Now, march!"
Little Joe took a deep breath, steeling himself for the long walk ahead. He prayed that no one would ride into the yard while he was on the way to the barn. With the strap hanging in his father's hand, it would be immediately apparent to anyone what was about to take place. The walk across the open area seemed endless, but they made it into the cool interior of the barn with no one appearing. Once inside, he turned back to his father.
"Pa, I know I deserve to be punished, but I think I'm too old for a whipping," he said, willing his voice to sound calm and mature.
"Well, Joseph, I'm afraid I have to disagree. I realize that at nineteen, you're almost a man, but even men make mistakes and choices that are dangerous. But as long as I'm alive, I'll be here to set you back on the straight and narrow. And if that includes taking a strap to you now and again, that's what I'll do. It's my job, and it's one I take very seriously."
Joe's eyes widened at that prospect. "You mean I'll NEVER be too old for a whipping?"
Ben almost smiled at his son's plaintive tone. "That's right, son."
"Is that true for Hoss and Adam, too?" Joe asked, stunned and more than a little disconcerted at this revelation.
"Of course-they're my sons, too. Now, I'm afraid we've talked long enough. Stalling isn't going to make the next few minutes any easier, so let's just get it over with." He nodded at one of the big feed barrels toward the back of the barn, handing Joe one of the horse blankets draped over the nearest stall. "Go ahead and drop your britches, Joseph, and get yourself over that barrel."
Little Joe flinched when he heard the directive, but he had known it was coming. When Pa was delivering a real whipping, it was always on the bare. He carefully arranged the blanket over the wooden barrel so he'd be protected from splinters and then began to unbuckle his belt. Once his pants were loosened, he leaned over the scratchy blanket, feeling it's rough texture against his stomach. He kept one hand tightly on his britches, unwilling to drop them until the last possible instant. He strained his ears for the sound of approaching hoof beats, still terrified that someone might stumble upon his impending humiliation, but all was thankfully silent.
He heard his father move behind him and slowly let his underclothes fall, baring his pale bottom. Biting his lip, he closed his eyes, tensing in expectation. He heard the whistle of the strap a mere second before he felt the burning pain right across both cheeks.
Little Joe let out a strangled cry, all hopes of keeping silent during his punishment vanishing without a thought. Again and again the strap fell, making him jump each time. He knew better than to beg for his Pa to stop, since a whipping never ended until Pa decided it was time, but he did find himself making frantic promises about all future behavior.
Ben had purposefully concentrated most of the licks across the top of his son's backside, knowing first hand the pain of trying to sit a horse after a whipping, but he made sure to place the last three stripes down low, right across the top of Little Joe's thighs, as a final reminder.
He stood back and wiped the sweat off his brow while he waited for his son to gather himself together. Joe was crying freely and rubbing gingerly at his now-crimson butt. Ben laid a gentle hand on his son's shoulder.
"Joe, get yourself some water from the pump. You'll feel better after you wash your face and have something cool to drink."
Little Joe just nodded, sniffling miserably and struggling to button his pants as carefully as possible. He frowned when his father handed him the strap.
"See that this gets a good rub down with oil, Joseph and then return it to me."
Joe always hated this final part of the punishment. Actually having to rub his hands all over the instrument that had just been used on his own butt seemed like an unnecessary cruelty, but his father had always insisted. And Pa never stood for a job half done.
He took it reluctantly, hoping he'd be able to find the oil. It never seemed to be in the same place twice, but he'd rather tear the barn and bunk-house apart beam by beam than ask one of the hands where it might be.
Ben eyed his disconsolate son. "Cheer up, Joseph. Maybe the next time the strap gets a workout, it will be on one of my grandson's backsides. Now, take care of your chores and then come on in the house. I'm sure Hop Sing will have dinner ready soon."
"I don't want any supper, Pa," Little Joe said quietly.
"You don't want any supper, or you don't want your brothers to see you sitting kinda easy?" his father asked astutely.
Joe's eyes filled with tears again, and he wiped them angrily away, determined not to act like a baby. "I just don't want any, that's all!"
His father wasn't fooled for a minute. "Joe, Joe - your brothers will understand. Both of them have been here any number of times. And who knows - maybe they will be again some time."
Little Joe almost chuckled at the image of his oh-so-serious oldest brother getting tanned, but instead sighed, knowing how unlikely it was to happen. "But it's always me that ends up in trouble lately," he said morosely.
"That's not true. You're not always in trouble," his father said firmly. "You just need to look before you leap once in a while. And it wouldn't hurt you to try and cool down that hot temper of yours, either."
Joe managed a weak smile, knowing that his father's words were true. He also knew that both Adam and Hoss wouldn't tease him too much about his punishment. They might torment him sometimes just because he was the youngest, but they were always there for him, too.
"All right, Pa. I'll be in as soon as I take care of this," he said, eyeing the strap distastefully.
"I think that's wise Joseph. I'm sure Hop Sing has fixed something special since last night's meal was ruined, so you'd better not do anything to get on his bad side. I've heard Lin Po's number one son packs a mean cooking spoon!"
Ben gave Joe a final pat on the back and left the barn, leaving his number three son to his chore.
Little Joe shook his head and went in search of the oil, contemplating the lovely Miss Crabtree-and wondering how to talk his father into letting him go to the Harvest Dance!
THE END