Conversations in the Kitchen

a story in The Gambler’s Heart series

by Setcheti

Disclaimer: Don’t own Bonanza and don’t want to try, but Rosa May and Skull Valley are mine. This story takes place about a month after The Gambler’s Wedding.

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Ben Cartwright walked into his ranch house with a heavy tread, but for the first time in weeks it was heavy because he was thinking hard, not because he was thinking of Marie. In a way he was still thinking of - because of – his Marie, however; he was thinking that she probably wouldn’t like how far he’d let himself sink in grief after she’d died.

Even he hadn’t realized how far he’d sunk, until just half an hour ago when he’d heard a couple of his ranch hands talking about the wedding.

He made an effort to walk more quietly as he got nearer the kitchen door, not wanting to disturb little Joseph if the baby was asleep. He could hear soft humming and the rhythmic creak of the rocking chair. The lisping, thoughtful voice of his middle son Hoss – so Adam had nicknamed his younger brother Eric on hearing someone say the baby was ‘as big as a hoss’ – broke through the softer sounds. “Is Joe ev’ gonna stop cryin’, Rosa May?” the five year old was asking. “He jus’ cries all th’ time.”

“He’s cryin’ ‘cause he’s jus’ so little,” came the quiet Southern-accented reply of the woman who had come out from Carson City to help Ben and his small, bereaved family. “He just’ don’ know no other way to be tellin’ us what he wants.”

There was the clink of a spoon against an empty bowl. “Is what he wants his mama, Rosa May? Sometimes I wanna cry ‘cause I want my mamma too.”

Ben’s breath caught in his chest, and the gentle creak of the rocking chair stopped. “Well now, little Eric, ah don’ suppose little Joseph here knows his mama is gone, he ain’t near big enough to understand that,” was the quiet reply. Rosa May always called the boy by his given name, and Ben had been fighting a losing battle to do the same. “But if you need to cry for your mama, you jus’ go right ahead and do it.”

“Oh no, I can’t do that.” Ben could just picture his chubby little son sitting there, feet dangling off the tall kitchen chair, shaking his head oh-so seriously. “Adam says we can’t worry Pa none, and I ain’t ta cry ever ‘less I’se hurt so bad I think I might die.” His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “I had ta ask him ta put in that last part.”

“That was good thinkin’,” Rosa May told him. “But ah think that me an’ little Mistah Adam might need to be havin’ us a talk later on ‘bout who makes the rules ‘round here. Now if you’re done with that there bowl, you jus’ go put it up on the counter and ah’ll clean it out after a bit – ah don’ want to move Joseph just now, he’s settlin’ down to finally drink some of this here milk that ah fixed for him.”

There was a thump as small feet in sturdy little boots hit the floor, the scrape of a chair being pushed in, and then a clatter of the bowl against the counter. Feet again, this time pattering across the kitchen, and a very loud kiss. “Can I go out to play now, Rosa May?”

“Sure and you can, Eric. Use the back door, an’ don’ you be wanderin’ off too far, you hear?”

“I won’t. Bye Joe.”

Another kiss, and then the feet retreated and the door at the back of the kitchen slammed. The rocking chair started to creak again, and Rosa May’s amused voice called out, “You can come in now, Mistah Cartwright.”

He came in, knowing his face was bright red. “I didn’t know you could see through a solid oak door,” he told her.

“Ah can’t do that, but ah can sure hear the sound of those boots you’re wearin’ on this here wood floor.” The plump, middle aged black woman smiled at him, then stood up and without warning handed over the baby she’d been feeding into his startled arms. “Here, you jus’ sit down and finish feedin’ your boy while ah check what ah’ve got cookin’ for supper and get you some coffee.”

Ben took her place gingerly. He was afraid to hold Joseph, afraid to have much contact at all with him because he was so tiny; neither of his other two sons had been so small, and neither of them had been sickly either. But when he put the bottle back up to the tiny mouth the baby started sucking on it greedily and he relaxed somewhat. “He’s eating,” he said inanely.

“Ah told you he’d start eatin’ soon enough,” Rosa May told him. “Jus’ took him a while to make up his mind about it, that’s all. And ah think maybe it’d be better you than me to talk to little mistah Adam ‘bout those rules he’s been makin’.”

“I think you’re right.” Ben sighed. “I’ve been neglecting he and H-Eric, just wallowing in my grief. Marie wouldn’t have wanted that.”

“Ah don’t bet she would have.” Rosa May checked something that smelled like beef stew in a pot on the back of the stove, stirring it a few times before replacing the lid that covered it. “But ah don’t think she’d be blamin’ you for missin’ her, now would she?”

Ben had to smile. Rosa May wasn’t disrespectful about it, but she always said exactly what was on her mind. He liked that about her. “No, I don’t think she would,” was his answer. “Rosa May, have I ever mentioned how grateful I am that you came out here to help us?”

“Only about a dozen times.” She was checking biscuits and cornbread baking in the oven now, and the smell made his mouth water. “But you’re welcome, all the same. Ah couldn’t very well let you and these here boys be all by your lonesomes after Miss Marie passed on, now could ah?”

“I’m very glad you couldn’t.” That brought him back to the reason he’d originally returned to the house in the first place, or close enough. “I heard some of the ranch hands talking…wasn’t your Ezra’s wedding supposed to take place a few weeks back?”

“That it did.” She turned a smiling face to him, putting down a plate of biscuits on the table and bustling around to get butter and jam and coffee. “That last lettah he sent me told all about it, ah guess the whole town and then some was there. They ended up with a stack cake as big as a servin’ tray, an’ little Miss Juliet made him a groom’s cake that he says they’re gonna be talkin’ about for a month at least. He said if’n his friend Mistah Maverick hadn’t seen her doin’ it he’d‘ve thought she’d made it with a magic wand.” She made a face as she poured out the coffee into a heavy mug. “And you’d jus’ know that mothah of his would have to show up a rantin’ and a ravin’ jus’ as they were leavin’ the church, but ah guess Mistah Maverick an’ Mistah Jesse and Sheriff Dunne they took care of her right quick.”

Ben had to ask. “Mr. Jesse, who’s that? Another friend of your Ezra’s?”

Rosa May came back to the rocking chair and took the baby, bottle and all, back into her own arms without so much as jostling him, in a move Ben knew he couldn’t have duplicated if his life depended on it. “Go on, sit up to the table and have your coffee,” she told him. “No, Mistah Jesse’s Miss Juliet’s brother, has himself a ranch out at someplace called Skull Valley.”

Even Ben Cartwright, immersed as he was in his own ranch and family, had heard of Skull Valley. “You mean Jesse McLaughlin?” When she nodded, looking puzzled, he shook his head and helped himself to a hot biscuit. “He’s one of the richest men in the country, from what I understand. That’s quite a marriage your Ezra made – and quite a compliment to him that McLaughlin allowed it.”

Her smile was proud. “Ah’d say it’s a compliment he deserved, indeed ah would – but ah was jus’ happy he’d finally decided to move on with his life. It’d been ten years he’d been alone, mournin’ Miss Christina and our little Emily Rose.”

Ben could understand that; right now, he felt like ten years would only be about half the time he’d need before he was ready to even think about another wife – but then, he’d lost three and Standish only the one. He finished off his first biscuit and started buttering his second after taking another drink of coffee. “So why didn’t you remind me about the wedding? You should have been there.”

She shifted the now-sleeping baby in her arms, removing the nearly empty bottle. “You all needed me here. Mistah Ezra understood that, he wrote and told me so.”

“I can see how he would – understand, that is.” Ben ate his second biscuit more slowly than the first; the appetite his grief had stolen from him was only gradually returning. “I appreciate you giving up what you did, what both of you did, for myself and the boys. I’m not sure Joseph would even be alive now if you hadn’t been here to help us.”

“Little Joseph’s gonna be just fine,” she told him firmly. “He’s a fighter, that’s what he is, and he’s gonna do you proud some day.”

“I know he will. I know all my sons will.” Ben sighed. “But I want you to promise me that if your Ezra and his wife ever need you, you’ll tell me. I’ll arrange your transportation, make sure the boarding house can manage while you’re gone, anything you need.” His face took on a determined look, the same look he’d worn most of the time he’d been building his ranch but that hadn’t graced his craggy face very much recently. “You gave up something precious to you to save something precious of mine, it would only be right that I return the favor.”

Rosa May wiped her eyes with her free hand, careful not to disturb the baby. “If he needs me, ah’ll let you know – but ah’m hopin’ he don’t evah need me that way, or that bad.” She sniffed and started rocking again. “Speakin’ of the boardin’ house, though…ah think they’ve done found you a cook, Mistah Cartwright. He was workin’ for that there railroad camp that came through, and when he turned up sick they done left him behind. Effie and Berta took him in, though, and they say that he’s a fine honest man, a good cook, and he’s good with the children too.” She didn’t add that they’d all three agreed putting a woman in the Cartwright ranch to keep house probably wasn’t a good idea at the present time, or that the Chinese cook was as bull-headed as Ben Cartwright and so would be able to hold his own. “His name’s Hop Sing. It’s funny the names those Chinese give their children, isn’t it?”

“That is an odd one.” Ben leaned back in his chair, sipping his coffee and watching little Joseph sleep. He’d known Rosa May couldn’t stay on permanently, so he wasn’t really upset that she and the other two women who ran the boarding house in Carson City had been scouting out a replacement cook for him; in fact, he realized, if he’d been thinking clearly lately he would have expected it or been looking into finding someone himself. And he was relieved that they hadn’t found a woman for the job, he wasn’t sure he or the boys could have handled that. “Thank you for finding someone, I’m sure he’ll be just fine.” His eyes twinkled. “But I’m sure he won’t be as good a cook as you.”

She smiled back at him, glad to see the light in his eyes that had been missing for so long. Maybe now the man would finally start to come back to life – he needed to, because his boys needed him. “Ah’m sure he’ll do just fine, Mistah Cartwright – but if’n he don’t, ah’m sure ah can teach him bettah.”

“I’m sure you could.” Ben buried the rest of his smile in his coffee. He might not be ready to have a woman around the house permanently…but he was still going to miss Rosa May.