In for a Penny, In for a Pound

By Sarah Hendess

"I told you we wouldn't catch no fish out here, Adam. Come on, let's go down to Tahoe."

Adam Cartwright raised his head and looked over at his friend.

"No way," he said. "My father catches us on Ponderosa land, he'll have us rounding up cattle before we even know what hit us. Or worse, minding Little Joe."

Adam's two-year-old brother was a handful on his best days, and judging by the tantrum he'd thrown at breakfast that morning, Joe was not having one of his best days. Adam wasn't about to spoil a rare day off from his ranch chores by getting roped into babysitting.

"Least Joe's almost toilet-trained," Ross said, tossing his fishing pole aside and stretching out in the grass. "I got at least another year of helpin' my ma change Matthew's diapers."

Adam chuckled as he dandled his bare toes in the duck pond. "If you can call it 'trained.' He's too small to go in the privy by himself, and his aim is terrible. I'm getting pretty sick of him pissing all over my boots."

Ross laughed and offered Adam a swig from his canteen. The late July sun beat down, and even in the shade of the large oak tree, the two fourteen-year-olds were sweating. Their boots, socks, hats, and shirts lay scattered about like fallen soldiers on a battlefield, and Adam was contemplating shucking his trousers and undershorts, too, and jumping into the pond.

"Come on," Ross said, sitting up and pulling his socks and boots back on. "Let's go back to the house and see if Ma's got any lemonade."

Adam grinned and stuffed his feet back into his socks and boots. Mrs. Marquette made the best lemonade in the territory, and she almost always had some stirred up when Adam came to visit. The boys grabbed their hats, shirts, and fishing gear and scampered toward the house.

It was only a quarter mile from the duck pond to the Marquettes' house, and despite the heat of the afternoon, the eager teenagers covered the distance in just a couple minutes. As they laughed their way into the front yard, an unholy screech emanating from the house stopped them dead in their tracks. Adam let out a low whistle.

"Holy smokes," he said. "Sounds like Matthew's having a worse day than Little Joe."

"Yeah," Ross agreed. "You know, on second thought, let's not bother Ma. Sounds like she's got her hands full as it is."

As the screaming inside the house reached a fevered pitch, the boys dithered in the yard, trying to decide on their next move. The fish weren't biting, they weren't allowed to ride into Carson City by themselves, and the house was a warzone. They stared at each other glumly as they realized they were facing a long, hot afternoon with nothing to do.

Adam would later reflect on how approaching danger can quickly turn a difficult decision into an easy one.

In between Matthew's squalls, Adam and Ross heard hoof beats coming their direction.

"That's Pa!" Ross cried. "We gotta get outta here, Adam! He sees us lookin' bored, he'll put us to work before you can say Jack Robinson!"

The boys tore off toward the barn, slipping inside just as Mr. Marquette rode into the front yard. Adam and Ross jockeyed for position as they tried to peer through the crack between the barn's double doors to see which way Ross's father would go. They were about the same height, but Adam was broader than his skinny friend and shouldered him aside. Ross dropped to all fours and peeked out around Adam's knees.

"Go in the house," Ross whispered. "Please, please go in the house." He let out a soft moan of despair as Mr. Marquette led his horse toward the barn.

Adam and Ross snatched up their fishing poles and darted for the hayloft ladder. Ross scurried up first and leaned over to grab the fishing poles from Adam – they didn't want to leave evidence of their presence. Then Adam zipped up the ladder, rolling out of sight just as Mr. Marquette led his horse into the barn.

The boys hardly breathed as Mr. Marquette untacked his mare. Adam had never seen someone unsaddle a horse so slowly, and he wished he had put his shirt back on. The hay he and Ross were lying on tickled his bare chest, but he didn't dare scratch or shift around. In their haste to take cover in the loft, they'd stirred up puffs of dust, and Adam's eyes widened in horror as he realized that Ross was about to sneeze. His friend's face was scrunched up like he'd just tasted something sour, and his nose was twitching like a rabbit's. Thinking fast, Adam grabbed Ross's shirt and pounced on his friend as lightly as he could, pressing Ross's shirt over his face to muffle his sneeze. They froze, straining their ears for any indication that they'd blown their cover. Adam inched his way to the edge of the loft and peered over, hoping against hope that Mr. Marquette was not looking up.

He wasn't.

Adam breathed a sigh of relief as the man hung up his horse's bridle and left the barn.

"I think we're safe, Ross." His friend didn't respond. "Ross?"

"I think you broke my back," Ross moaned, rolling over onto his side.

Adam looked at him skeptically. "Quit playing, you fool. I didn't do any such thing."

Ross sat up and massaged the middle of his back. "Well, something did. What in the world did I land on?" He plunged his hands into the hay and sifted about. His eyes lit up, and he extracted a tall, thin bottle filled with amber liquid. Adam's eyes widened as Ross read the label. "'Old Jake Beam, 1835.' This is whiskey, Adam!"

Adam snatched the bottle from Ross and examined the label. "It sure is," he said as he fished an itchy bit of hay out of his dark hair. "And 1835. I wonder how long this bottle's been up here."

"I don't know," Ross said. "Pa doesn't drink much. I'm surprised he even has this. He must have forgotten about it." Before Adam could stop him, Ross had broken the wax seal and pulled out the cork. He inhaled deeply. "Whew! Get a whiff of this!"

He passed the bottle to Adam, whose eyes watered at the first sniff. He handed the bottle back. "Put it back, Ross, and let's go find something to do."

Ross stared at Adam like he'd lost his mind. He waved the bottle in Adam's face. "We just found something to do! Bet I can drink more than you can."

"I'm not drinking that. It smells like turpentine."

"Whatsa matter, Adam? Not turnin' into a yellow belly, are you?"

"I ain't yellow! I just don't want to drink it is all. It's not even ours." Adam's father enjoyed a small nightcap most evenings, and he and Adam's stepmother, Marie, sometimes shared a bottle of wine on special occasions, but other than that there was little alcohol at home on the Ponderosa. Ben Cartwright said it made fools out of wise men, and one look at the men stumbling out of the saloons in Carson City had been all the proof Adam needed.

"All right, Angel May," Ross said sweetly. "You don't have to drink it. You just run along home and get your boots pissed on."

His masculinity at stake, Adam ripped the bottle from Ross's grasp and took a deep swig. He screwed up his face as the liquid shot a hot trail down his throat and set fire to his belly. His stomach churned, and Adam thought he was going to lose it. He took several slow, steadying breaths, and handed the bottle back to Ross with a smirk.

"Your turn, Betty Lou."

Ross grinned and tipped the bottle back a little too enthusiastically. He came up sputtering, his face red.

"You gotta do that one again," Adam said, wiping whiskey off his face with Ross's shirt. "You spit most of it out."

Ross glared at Adam but took another, much smaller, gulp. This time he kept it in. "Ha!" he said, slapping his chest. "That's you showed."

Adam grinned and took the bottle again. This time, he was ready for it. The sharp, bitter flavor made him cringe again, but his stomach didn't rebel.

"That's the spirit, Cartwright!" Ross cheered. The lanky boy took another shot, wiped his mouth on his forearm, and handed the bottle back to Adam. "Stay here. I'll be right back." He crawled to the edge of the loft and swung a foot down onto the top rung of the ladder.

"Where you goin'?" Adam asked.

Ross was already halfway down the ladder. "Gettin' some cards. Figure as long as we're drinkin', we may as well be playin' poker."

Adam snorted and broke into giggles as Ross swayed a bit as he scampered from the barn. He returned only minutes later, holding a deck of cards triumphantly aloft. He crammed the cards into his back pocket and climbed back up into the loft. He lost his balance near the top and nearly fell backward twenty feet to the barn floor. Adam swung out a clumsy hand and grabbed Ross's arm just in time. He hauled his friend into the loft, where Ross lay in the hay and panted. Adam waved the whiskey bottle over his face.

"Don't worry, I saved you some," he said and dissolved into giggles again. He gathered himself just enough to take another quaff before passing the bottle to Ross.

"All right," Ross said after drinking again and tugging the cards out of his back pocket. "Let's play poker!" He let Adam cut the cards and then picked them up to shuffle them. He did all right riffling the two halves of the deck, but when he attempted to cascade, the cards flew out of his hands in fifty-two different directions. He and Adam stared at each wide-eyed for a few seconds before falling backward into the hay in hysterical laughter. It took them five minutes to collect themselves and another ten minutes to find all of the playing cards. Adam shuffled this time and dealt five cards each to himself and Ross. The boys scrutinized their hands, occasionally casting suspicious glances at each other over the tops of their cards.

"You go first," Adam said.

"No, you."

"I dealt. You have to go first."

Ross sighed and took another sip of whiskey as he stared at his cards again. "Hey, uh, Adam?" he said at last. "What am I s'posed to do?"

Adam choked on the whiskey he was swallowing.

"You don't know how to play?!"

Ross shifted uncomfortably. "Well, no. I kinda thought maybe you did."

"Where would I learn to play poker? My father doesn't let me in saloons!"

"You think mine does?"

"Naw, I guess not," Adam said. He reached under his rear end and patted down some hay that had been poking him through his britches. He grabbed the bottle and took another sip. "Tell you what, though," he said conspiratorially. He and Ross both leaned forward so they were only inches apart, and Adam lowered his voice. "Last time we were in town, one of those saloon girls whistled at me as I walked by."

"Really?!"

"Oh, yeah!" Adam said, his eyes wide. "Managed to slip away from Ma and Pa that afternoon, too, and paid her a little visit, if you know what I mean." He winked at Ross.

Dulled by the whiskey, Ross stared at Adam in frank admiration for several seconds before his face crumpled into skepticism. "You did not!"

"Did so! Her name was Sue Ellen, and she cost me five dollars!"

"Sure, Adam. You just keep spinnin' 'em, son."

"You callin' me a liar?"

"Sure am."

His face burning, Adam threw down his cards and launched himself at Ross. He knocked the slimmer boy onto his back and knelt on his chest while he drew back a fist.

"Take it back!" he ordered.

"Not on your life!"

Adam swung his fist forward, but Ross's squirming threw him off balance, and he fell sideways. Ross pounced on him, and Adam tried to land a punch, but his vision had gone blurry, and he couldn't aim. Ross, apparently, was having the same problem, because he couldn't land a blow, either. His head swimming, Adam tried to regain the upper hand by catching Ross up in a headlock, but one of Ross's long legs kicked out, and they heard the "CLINK!" of glass hitting a wooden floor. They froze, Adam's arm around Ross's neck, and Ross reaching behind him and yanking Adam's hair.

"Noooo!" they cried in unison.

Adam released Ross, and they both dived for the whiskey bottle. Ross snatched it up and held it up for inspection. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"We didn't lose much," he said. "Not even a full inch."

"Let's never fight again," Adam said.

Ross nodded, and they sealed their pact with shots of whiskey.

Dizzy, Adam flopped onto his back and stared up at the rafters. He could have sworn they were dancing. "How d'ya now was flibbin?" he asked.

"What?"

"Sorry," Adam slurred. He scrunched his eyes shut and focused on articulating each word. "How. Did. You. Know. I was. Fib-bing? Think I ain't brave 'nough to visit a sportin' woman?"

"Ain't that," Ross answered. His voice moved like cold molasses. "Just don't think you've ever had five bucks."

The boys burst out laughing, but Adam cut off as the pressure from his bladder told him that laughing was not in his best interests. After another swig from the bottle, he staggered across the hayloft and opened the door to the outside. He stood at the edge and unbuttoned his trousers. His shoulders sagged in relief as the stream arced to the ground twenty feet below.

"Cartwright, you fall to your death, I'm pretendin' I don't know a thing about it," Ross drawled.

Adam grew thoughtful as a crow glided past. "Hey, Ross?"

"Hey what?"

"You ever wish you could fly?"

Ross raised his head. It swayed as he spoke. "Can't say I have. Why?"

"Leonardo da Vinci thought human flight was possible."

Ross dropped his head back into the hay. "Adam, I'm sure I don't know what you're talkin' about half the time."

Adam buttoned his trousers and tried to walk back to Ross, but the floor shifted under him, and he dropped to all fours and crawled instead. "Da Vinci, Ross! He was a genius. He invented the orthodonter! No, orpicopter! No, the- the, flyin' machine!"

Ross held the whiskey bottle to Adam's lips and gave him another drink. "If he invented a flyin' machine, how's come you rode your horse over here this mornin'?"

Adam swallowed the liquor and collapsed next to Ross once more. "'Cause he couldn't get it to work, stupid. But he was close, Ross! He was real close! All that needs to happen is for someone to take the next step."

Ross's eyebrows shot up and he looked over at Adam. "Someone like us!" he cheered.

"Oh, I didn't mean us," Adam said, accepting the bottle again.

"Why not? Everyone's always sayin' how smart you are. Gonna be the first Cartwright to go to college, ain't ya?"

Adam nodded. Ross could make a lot of sense when he wanted to.

"So what do we need to do?" Ross asked.

Adam's eyes gleamed with delight.