The Best Little Bed and Breakfast in Nevada (by JC)

Summary:  The Cartwrights entertain house guests.  Again.  Joe has a better idea.

Rating: K++, or maybe T-    (4592 words)

 

AUTHOR’S NOTE:  Now that the  2017 Ponderosa Paddlewheel Poker Tournament is over, I’m posting my unofficial “alternate” entry, composed simultaneously. It was a crap shoot, really – dismal odds either way – but this one is certainly more fun.  Words/phrases drawn were little, peeved, mountain, prosper, and in the root cellar.  Keep in mind this is totally AU; anachronisms abound! (You’ve been warned. Don’t be a hater.)

 

THE BEST LITTLE B&B IN NEVADA

 

It was 1860-something on the Ponderosa, and the Cartwrights were getting ready to welcome their fourteenth round of house guests of the seemingly never-ending tourist season, which was anytime one of Pa’s old friends happened to be in the vicinity.  (It was actually the thirteenth round, but since no one would want to be assigned such an unlucky number they always just skipped it.)

Hop Sing had grown mighty peeved lately. When he signed on as domestic help for Ben Cartwright and his three sons, he never expected to be managing a hotel, and lately, that’s what it felt like. Where in the world did all these people come from, and how did they know the Cartwrights?  Never mind the food and laundry; it was too many chamber pots for just one cook.  After the circus troupe last week, he had threatened to quit and go back to China where he’d never even lived before if somebody didn’t lend a hand.

As usual, the boys were arguing over the division of labor on the ranch.  The normal method of deciding was to draw straws, but in the interest of time and for Hoss’s sake, Adam opted to skip it and arbitrarily assigned this least desirable task to the youngest.

Little Joe was more than peeved.  “Why do I always have to be the youngest?” he scowled.

“Think about it,” said Adam.

Joe looked skeptical, certain that sneaky oldest brother of his was trying to pull one over on him.

Hoss scratched his head, “I reckon it’s cuz you’re the littlest, Little Joe.”

“And that’s another thing! No man likes to be called “little” anything!”

(The Cartwright formerly known as Little had already updated his Facebook page to reflect his preferred moniker, Manly Joe. Hoss was thinking of updating his profile name as well.  Eric wasn’t so bad, but it sounded a bit too Nordic for Virginia City. He was leaning toward something like Rock. Or maybe  Chad.  Adam claimed he didn’t have time for Facebook, but he had 50,000 Twitter followers @bullofthewoods and was always tweeting out quotes from Shakespeare or Thoreau, along with his own pithy comments, #Moo).

Despite his protestations, in the end Joe had no choice but to step up to the pot, which he did however grudgingly.

In the face of all that peevishness, Hoss remained cheerful as ever.  Most of the time, he really enjoyed having guests.  There were exceptions though, like that two timing Melinda and her social climbing mother, and that awful Lady Linda who tried to blackmail their Pa.  And Cousin Will with his painted on mustache and stretchy pants who didn’t even smell like a Cartwright.

Some of his all-time favorite guests were Lucky Mercado and his red-headed wife, Dizzy.  Pa met Lucky in New Orleans when he was courting Little Joe’s ma, Marie.  Lucky was the master of ceremonies and headliner at the Jambalaya Club.  Dizzy (whose real name was Louise) and Marie were BFFs at the convent where they grew up, until Dizzy got kicked out for putting henna on her hair. After she married Lucky, she was always trying to weasel her way into his show but everybody knew she couldn’t sing a lick (she did have great legs, though).  The last time the Mercados stopped by on their way to California they brought their friends Ed and Thelma with them, and when they drove up in their brand new eight-horsepower covered wagon even Adam was impressed. (Ed was sort of a fuddy duddy, but Thelma was a real nice lady.)

Hoss whistled as he set to work on his assigned task – setting up for the barbecue that evening.  That meant moving tables, putting out chairs, and stringing the Chinese lanterns.  Wells Fargo had just dropped off a new box of lanterns from Oriental Trading Company to replace the ones Cousin Muley’s dogs chewed up last month, and Hop Sing had stored it in the root cellar for safe keeping. Hoss loved going in the root cellar because he never knew exactly what he was going to find.  Hop Sing was always squirrelling things away down there. Once, Hoss found a carton with a dozen Ghirardelli chocolate bars, and another time a whole case of red velvet Oreos.  He was keeping his fingers crossed for double-stuff this time.

Adam had the cushy job of picking up the guests and driving them back to the ranch. That was his favorite. He loved wearing the chauffeur’s cap and always spent a lot of time working on the signs he held up so the passengers could find him in the town crowd when they got off the stage.  He had a brand new four passenger surrey, complete with fringe and running lights, and he was sure that cute Laurey and her Aunt Eller would be impressed.  They were from Oklahoma.  Laurey had just broken up with her boyfriend, Curly, and Aunt Eller felt a change would do her good.  Adam had always thought Curly was kind of a sissy, and he intended to show Laurey some honest-to-goodness cowboy action. Oklahoma was okay, but it was nothing compared to the near-heavenly thousand square miles of the Ponderosa, where there were plenty of places for a guy and a girl to disappear for a while.  And what happens on the Ponderosa, stays on the Ponderosa.

Aunt Eller was going to be disappointed to find out her old army buddy Ben wasn’t home.  Pa was working overtime on an important business meeting in San Francisco he hoped to wrap up soon. If he didn’t finish before the first snow he’d never make it back through the mountain pass before spring.

(Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Hop Sing was busy whipping up a triple batch of shrimp parm for guests who wanted to avoid red meat.  It was an authentic ancient Chinese secret recipe he got from his friend Kim Lee’s wife, who got it from her Jewish pen pal Mrs. Goldberg in Pennsylvania.)

~*~

Cute Laurey stepped off the stage and squealed in delight when she saw Adam holding up the glittered welcome sign.  “Look Aunt Eller!  Isn’t he dreamy?  He even spelled my name right!”  She was sick and tired of correcting everybody who always spelled it with “ie” at the end. Hopeless Curly still got it wrong after three years.

Aunt Eller clomped out behind her in her big army boots.  “So this is Nevada!  Smells funny.”

Cute Laurey was even cuter than Adam remembered, with her bouncy golden curls and pert little nose. He greeted her with a friendly kiss on the lips, keeping it to no more than ten seconds since he didn’t want to seem too forward.  Aunt Eller puckered up too but all he gave her was a hearty handshake.  He knew better than to trifle with a widow’s affections.

“Welcome to Virginia City, ladies,” he said, grateful for the chance to show off his dazzling smile. The new dentist, Dr. Holliday, was currently offering a deep discount on teeth whitening for referred patients.  “Next stop, the Ponderosa.”

“Where’s old Ironsides?” asked Aunt Eller.

“Pa’s in San Francisco on business.”

Aunt Eller nodded, with a knowing look, “He always did have a mind for business.”

Adam put their luggage in the back of the surrey with Aunt Eller and parked Laurey in the front passenger seat.

“Do you know the surrey song?” Even Laurey’s eyelashes were cute as she fluttered them at him.

“Why, yes indeed,” he replied, thrilled that she asked. He had downloaded it from iTunes so he could brush up on it just for the occasion.

When he finished singing, Aunt Eller let out a long whistle. “He sings even purtier than Curly, don’t you think, Laurey?”

“Curly who?” asked dreamy-eyed Laurey, hanging on Adam’s arm.

(Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Manly Joe, still peeved, was busy trying to think up new ways to get out of work or annoy Adam, preferably both.)

~*~

Hoss was putting out the last of the chairs when Adam pulled in with their guests. Setting up for the barbecue was thirsty work, but luckily he’d scored a six pack of Dr. Pepper made with real sugar when he went in the root cellar to get the lanterns.

“Howdy folks,” he greeted them with a wide grin, “Miss Laurey, Miss Eller.”

“Howdy, Hoss – you can call me Aunt.  Everybody else does.  My, but you’re gettin’ to be a big feller, ain’t ya?”

“Yes’m, I reckon.”

“Well, you keep it up.  There ain’t enough big men in this country.”

Joe emerged from the house, smiling.  “Welcome to the Ponderosa, ladies.”

Aunt Eller looked him over.  “That one’s kind of puny, ain’t he?”

“That’s our brother, Little Joe,” said Adam, with emphasis on the adjective. “You remember him, don’t you?”

Joe shot him a scowl before turning to perky Laurey with his infamous twinkly-eyed grin.  “Joe Cartwright, at your service,” he said, kissing her hand.

Aunt Eller clapped him on the back, propelling him forward.  “Little Joe, you were wearin’ a diaper and a dress last time I saw you.  Reckon you’re not finished growin’ yet.”

“Speaking of service, we could use your services getting their luggage up to their rooms, if you don’t mind,” said Adam.

Joe made a face at him and went around to the back of the surrey to retrieve the trunk, but he couldn’t budge it.  “What’s in here, a dead body?”

“No, just women things, but I reckon it is a might heavy.  Here, let me get it.”  Aunt Eller picked up the trunk and handed it Hoss. “You don’t mind totin’ it up the stairs for me, do ya?”

“No ma’am, I’m happy to,” he replied, surprised at the weight in his arms.  Aunt Eller might be skinny, but she sure was strong.

The women followed Hoss up the stairs. Joe picked up the remaining bags, stuck one under his arm and held out his hand to Adam, palm up.

“What?”

“If I’m gonna be bellboy, I expect a tip.”

Adam looked thoughtful.  “Okay, here’s one.  Don’t go swimming on a full stomach.”

~*~

Plenty of guests showed up for the barbecue, as any event at the Ponderosa ranked among the highlights of the Virginia City social season. The Cartwrights knew how to throw a party.  Friends and neighbors all turned out — Roy Coffee (Clem was minding the jail), Mitch Devlin and his new wife Bunny (whom he met online at RanchersOnly.com), Will Cass and his daughter Sally, Sue Miller and her boyfriend Jerry (they’d been dating for years but no one could ever remember the poor fella’s last name – Lewis, maybe?).  Paul Martin squired his fiancée, Beth Cameron, who owned the General Store. (Their engagement took everyone by surprise, especially Ben Cartwright who had more than once cast a wishful eye toward the widow; perhaps that was one reason for his impromptu visit to San Francisco.) Hank and Abigail Myers and the twins Walter and Raleigh were there too, along with Abigail’s mother Mrs. Nutley, Clementine Hawkins, and a plethora of others.

In Pa’s absence Adam played host, and after introducing the guests of honor he went to work intent on impressing Laurey.  He seemed to be succeeding, to Joe’s displeasure.  Honestly, he never understood what women saw in the old fussbudget. It was probably because they didn’t know him that well.  Hoss was chatting up Sally Cass over by the barn. They were laughing and taking selfies with his new iPhone. Joe didn’t begrudge him at all.

For once, Joe’s mind wasn’t on girls.  It was on business.  In spite of what a lot of people thought, he had a shrewd head for it.  He’d outsmarted both his brothers in a horse race and gotten not only a one-third share of the purse, but a horse and a new rifle to boot.  Nothing personal; it was strictly business.  He could recognize a good opportunity when it was staring him in the face, and the Cartwrights were sitting on a gold mine with enormous potential to prosper.  Imagine if all the people who came to visit the Ponderosa were paying customers?  His head reeled at the possibilities.  It wouldn’t take much to turn this place into the best little bed and breakfast in Nevada, especially if he could get his brothers on board.  Pa wouldn’t go against all three of them, would he?

His visions of being a resort ranch tycoon were momentarily derailed by an impatient voice calling his name.

“Bring more shrimp parm from kitchen, chop chop!” said Hop Sing.

“Okay, okay!”  Who eats this stuff anyway, Joe wondered as he hauled the dish out to the table.  Personally, he never touched anything that even faintly resembled a casserole, wrinkling his nose at the thought.  Adam was allergic to shellfish, and Hoss hated cheese.  Maybe Pa liked it.

(Meanwhile, Adam was tuning his guitar with a gleaming eye on cute Laurey, preparing to move in for the kill….)

He’d just finished his standard rendition of “Early One Morning” and Laurey was gushing. (Abigail Myers was fanning herself with her handkerchief and Hank was sulking.)

“Oh Adam, that was wonderful,” Laurey beamed.  “I think you’re the best singer in the whole world!”

“Well, I’m…”

“Not so fast…” a voice interrupted.

The crowd parted, and a lean, well-chiseled stranger sauntered into their midst. He was outfitted in a neon orange silky shirt accented with a blue bandana and a pair of well-worn leather chaps over his jeans. His hat was cocked atop a mass of chestnut curls that could put any girl and even Joe Cartwright to shame.

“Curly!”

“Howdy, Laurey.”

Adam stood up slowly, his eyes on the stranger. “Curly.”

“Adam.”

“Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Guess not, seein’ as how I wasn’t invited to the party.”

“What can we do for you?” Adam’s voice was calm, his eyes fixed on Curly.

“I came for my girl.” Curly’s voice was equally calm.

“Is that a fact?”

“It is.”

“Well, I’m not sure she is your girl, Curly, but I know one thing. You’re not takin’ her out of here. Not tonight.”

“You sure about that?”

“Dead sure.”

“So that’s how it is.”

“Yep.”

The palpable tension rippled through the crowd in whispers and gasps as the two men stared each other down.  Laurey clung to Aunt Eller, who hollered, “There ain’t no call for this, boys!”

Curly held up a hand, “You stay out of this, Aunt Eller.  This is between Adam and me, and it’s been a long time comin’.”

“Too long,” Adam nodded.

Roy stepped in.  “Now this ain’t nothin’ but foolishness. Boy, you ain’t even wearin’ a gun,” he reminded Curly.

“Don’t need one.  Adam knows there’s only one way to settle this.”

“That’s right,” said Adam.  “What’s that behind your back, Curly?”

A slow smile spread across Curly’s face as he moved his arm.

Hoss shouted a warning, “Adam, watch out! He’s got a…”

Curly whipped the instrument of doom around him as the crowd gasped collectively.

“A twelve string! I ain’t never seen one before,” declared Hank in a tone dripping with dread and admiration.  Abigail swayed as if she were going to faint. Laurey buried her face in Aunt Eller’s shawl.

Adam’s placid expression broke ever so slightly before he recovered.  Joe noticed it. Hoss did too.   Big brother was in trouble, and things were about to get ugly…

With a practiced grin, Adam picked up his new Spanish guitar which Don Miguel had sent him to replace the one Margarita smashed to smithereens.  It only had six strings, and he was still breaking it in.  But he’d faced tougher odds before in the desert.  Also whenever Laura Dayton invited him for a home cooked meal.

“Say when, Curly.”

“All right,” Curly paused and scratched his head, “…uh, how do we do this, exactly? Do I go first, or do you want to? It doesn’t really matter to me, but maybe you should – it’s your party after all.”

“No, you can go first, you’re a guest.”

“Well, technically, I’m not a guest since I wasn’t invited.”

“It doesn’t matter. No one is ever turned away from the Ponderosa,” Adam assured him. “Everyone here knows that.”

The crowd responded in a collective murmur of agreement.

“Looks like you’re up, Curly,” said Joe.  “Nice hair, by the way.”

“Thanks,” he nodded.  He glanced around and settled his gaze on Laurey, who was watching anxiously as he began.

You ask how long I need you, must I explain?

I need you, oh my darling, like roses need rain.

You ask how long I’ll love you; I’ll tell you true,

Until the twelfth of never, I’ll still be loving you.*

 

By the time he finished singing, people were cheering, some of the women were swooning, and Laurey was in his arms.

“Hey, what about me, don’t I get a turn?”

“Adam, you done had your turn,” said Hoss. “By the way, I think maybe it’s time you learned some new songs.”

Aunt Eller spoke up, “Laurey, how ‘bout you and Curly doin’ that sweet little ditty you’ve been practicin’?”

“How ‘bout it, Laurey?” Curly grinned.

She glanced at Adam, “Oh, I don’t know…”

Adam looked a little deflated in spite of his smile, “Go ahead; I’m sure everyone would love to hear it.”

Laurey smiled her cutest, “All right.”

Don’t throw bouquets at me; don’t please my folks too much;

Don’t laugh at my jokes too much – people will say we’re in love….**

 

Joe crossed his arms, listening thoughtfully.  “They’re good aren’t they?”

“Yes, they are,” said Adam.

“You okay?”

“Ah, you win some, you lose some,” he grinned. “She sure is cute, though, don’t you think?”

Actually, Joe was thinking what a great attraction Laurey and Curly would make if he could get them to sign on at the Ponderosa B&B.  A dinner show, maybe…yeah. Curly might make a decent ranch hand to boot.  Joe made a mental note to ask him where he got his shirts and what he put on his hair to make it so shiny and manageable…

~*~

It was no surprise when Laurey and Curly announced their engagement that evening, and a couple of days later they left for Oklahoma with Aunt Eller to prepare for a windswept wedding on the plains. Adam presented the couple with a prize bull as a gift to show there were no hard feelings. Curly was so touched that he gave Adam his twelve string guitar in exchange for his promise that he would never sing to Laurey again. Better safe than sorry, they both agreed.

Hoss drove them to town to catch the stage, and when he returned he had a telegram from Pa.  “Listen to this,” he read to his brothers:

Business concluded. Returning tomorrow on noon stage with a surprise. Pa

“What do you reckon the surprise could be?”

“Beats me,” said Joe.

“I know one thing,” said Adam, “We need to get this place put back together before he gets here. It’s still a mess from the party.”

Just then Hop Sing entered from the kitchen, carrying his luggage.

“Hop Sing, where are you going?  Don’t tell me you have another sick relative,” said Adam, skeptically.

“You ain’t goin’ back to China, are ya?” asked Hoss, looking worried.

“Heck no,” said Hop Sing. “I’m going home to LA.  I’ve got a business opportunity I just can’t pass up.”

“What kind of business opportunity?” asked Joe.  “And what happened to your accent?”

Hop Sing grinned, “The audition said Chinese cook, and I needed the work, so… pretty good, huh?  Don’t get me wrong, it’s been a great gig, and you’re a swell bunch of guys. But now I’ve saved up enough money to go into business with my cousin Vinny Chan.  He’s opening a new kind of Chinese laundry called ‘dry cleaning’, with plans to franchise.  We’re gonna make a fortune! Is this a great country, or what?”

“Hop Sing, you can’t do this to us,” cried Hoss.  “What are we gonna eat?”

“There’s plenty of leftover shrimp parm in the back of the root cellar. And there are always beans and jerky until you can hire someone else. By the way, my friends call me Jimmy.”

As the brothers were dismally contemplating life without Hop Sing’s succulent roast pork, powdered donuts and proverbial wisdom, the front door banged open and then shut.

“Sons!”

“Pa,” exclaimed Joe, “you’re home early!”

“We weren’t expectin’ you until tomorrow,” said Hoss.

“I came in on yesterday’s stage and spent the night in town. I don’t want you boys thinking your father too predictable. I like to keep you on your toes,” he smiled.  “What’s this?” he asked, gesturing at Hop Sing’s luggage.

“Gucci,” Hop Sing/Jimmy replied.  “How do you like it?  I got it on Ebay.”

“Very nice,” said Ben. “Another sick relative?”

“Not exactly, Pa. Hop Sing is moving to Los Angeles to go into business with his cousin Vinny,” Adam explained.

Joe added, “They’re gonna make a fortune.”

“Cookies?”

“Dry cleaning,” said Hop Sing/Jimmy.

“Oh,” said Ben. “Well, whatever that is, I’m sure you’ll do well. You’ve always had a good head on your shoulders.  By the way, your English has improved remarkably since you came to work for us. Your accent isn’t even noticeable anymore.”

“Pa, you said you were bringin’ home a surprise, ain’t that right?”

“Indeed I did, Hoss – and indeed I have,” said Ben, opening the door once more.  “Boys, say hello to the new Mrs. Cartwright!”

“Magnificent Adah!” they shouted in unison.

“In the flesh,” said Adah, smiling and making a grand curtsey in front of them.  Then she patted Joe’s cheek. “You can call me Mommy, dearest.”

“When did this happen?” Adam wanted to know.

“Yesterday,” said Ben, smiling at Adah, “though we’ve been in a silent partnership for years.”

“You mean all those business trips to San Francisco…” said Hoss.

Ben shrugged, grinning impishly.

“And I thought Adam was the sneaky one,” said Joe.

“Well, I guess this calls for a celebration,” said Adam.

“I’m on it,” Hop Sing/Jimmy assured them.  “Shrimp parm for everyone!”

“Ooh, I love shrimp parm!” said Adah.

“Me too,” Ben smiled, “but I love you more.”  He gave Adah a big sloppy smooch.

Joe threw up in his mouth a little but managed a grin. (It was mostly the thought of shrimp parm.)

Over a festive if unappetizing dinner, the Cartwrights welcomed their newest family member and said goodbye to an old friend. Hop Sing/Jimmy passed around the last of the powdered donuts which they washed down with mugs of crème soda and ginger beer, purchased by the case at the new Virginia City Costco. (There was plenty more where that came from, he assured Hoss before he left – “you know where.”)

Adam’s lips were starting to swell big time from the shrimp so he excused himself from the table, but not before Joe snapped a picture of him, which he posted on Instagram, #ForAllTheGirlsI’veLovedBefore. Hoss excused himself to go the outhouse, but he really wanted to check out the root cellar for more goodies. The lovebirds excused themselves as well, explanation deemed unnecessary.

Alone at the table, Manly Joe Cartwright wiped his creamy soda mustache with the back of his hand, looking handsomely reflective. He’d never had a stepmother before, but he was certain they’d get along fine. He hadn’t given up on his idea of the Ponderosa B&B, either.  No sir, not by a long shot. A new idea swirled in his head beneath the freshly coiffed curls. If he could get Adah on his side, they could do dinner theater…yeah. First thing tomorrow, he’d go to work on Mommy dearest.

Well, maybe not first thing, Joe grinned… By all accounts, Adah was indeed a magnificent woman as well as a really good sport. He had to hand it to Pa for doing things his own way and not listening to his whiny sons, for knowing what he wanted and persisting until he got it.  That’s what a man does.  Joe wanted to be just like his Pa whenever he grew up.

His reverie was cut short by Hoss, bursting into the room carrying what looked like a treasure chest.  “Joe, you gotta see this!” He set it on the table. “It’s just full of stuff — Twinkies, Ding Dongs, Ho Hos – just look!

Joe peered into the chest and pulled out a box.  “Nutty Buddies! And Honey Buns!  Wait, is that what I think it is?”

Hoss held up another box and grinned, “Little Debbie Oatmeal Crème pies. Are you thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”

“Last one in’s a rotten egg!”

Later that evening, drained by the sugar rush, the two brothers lolled on the settee with their feet on the coffee table while trying to muster enough energy to mount the stairs and go to bed.

“Joe, do you think Little Debbie is a real person?”

“I dunno, why?”

“I’d like to marry a gal like that,” Hoss sighed, yawning.  “I’m sure gonna miss Hop Sing/Jimmy,”

“Yeah, me too,” replied Joe, eyes closed. “But don’t worry; I got the Costco card from him before he left.”

Hoss roused enough to send him a look of pure admiration.  “You know somethin’, Joe?  I’m beginnin’ to think you are the smart one.”

Joe put his hands behind his head and smiled.  Most days it was good to be a Cartwright.  And this was one of those days.

 

Epilogue

Hop Sing/Jimmy Chan moved to LA, got married and became a dry cleaning magnate along with his cousin Vinny.  His great-great-grandson gained prominence as a martial artist, stuntman, and successful Hollywood actor. Laurey and Curly’s great-granddaughter earned a modicum of fame as a widow who formed a rock band with her five children and toured the country in a psychedelic bus during the 1970’s. Ben and Adah enjoyed a long and happy marriage on the Ponderosa, which for several years was home to the best little bed and breakfast in Nevada under the innovative entrepreneurship of Joseph Cartwright with the help of his brothers, all of whom remained contentedly single, or so we’ve been told.

 

~END~

 

*from “The Twelfth of Never” – lyrics by Jerry Livingston and Paul Francis Webster

**from “People Will Say We’re in Love” – lyrics by Oscar Hammerstein

Bonanza character acknowledgements:  Many thanks to writers Norman Lessing (The Wooing of Abigail Jones), N.B Stone, Jr. (The Burma Rarity), Ed Adamson (The Waiting Game, Between Heaven and Earth), Laurence Mascott (Death at Dawn), John T. Kelly (Broken Ballad), Jerry Adelman (Thanks for Everything, Friend), and Donald S. Sanford (The Magnificent Adah) for Abigail Jones, Hank Myers, Ma Nutley, Clementine Hawkins, Laura Dayton, Mitch Devlin, Beth Cameron, Will and Sally Cass, Sue Miller and Jerry with no last name, and the incomparable Magnificent Adah Mencken.

Further acknowledgements:  Aside from the usual disclaimers, any resemblance to persons living or dead is drawn with the utmost affection.  My sincere apologies to Rodgers and Hammerstein and anyone else I may have inadvertently offended.

 

 

Tags:  Adam Cartwright, Ben Cartwright, Family, Hop Sing, Hoss Cartwright, Joe / Little Joe Cartwright

Loading

Bookmark (1)
ClosePlease login

No account yet? Register

Author: JC

A drop in the sea of humanity. And I write a bit.

44 thoughts on “The Best Little Bed and Breakfast in Nevada (by JC)

  1. Stopped in for a re-read and the story was just as hilarious as the first time. Loved the TV, theater, and food references. Lots of memories here! Thanks, JC.

    1. I remember how much fun I had writing this one, so I’m always happy to hear from readers who enjoy it, especially the second time around! Thanks, Cheaux. 🙂

  2. This was hilarious! I could just see Adam with a Twitter and using those hashtags. This was definitely what I needed to end my long midnight shift.

    1. Happy to oblige! Your comment was just what I needed to start my day. Thanks for stopping by, and come again. The Ponderosa B&B is always open. 🙂

  3. Back for a second stay at the Best Little Bed and Breakfast in Nevada. Still an entertaining group and Joe’s one terrific host, with his fluffy brown curls. (Personally, I think Adam’s been keeping busy with trips of his own, like Pa did). ;-))

    1. Welcome back! Our repeat customers are a real treat. Tell your friends! 🙂 #ManlyJoe, #BestinNevada, JoeC@PonderosaB&B

  4. A student of mine walked in and wanted to know what I was laughing about.Joe can be slow on the uptake sometimes but when he’s got,he’s got it

  5. Really funny, JC! The whole concept is hilarious. I loved the Cartwrights having Twitter accounts and Hop Sing shopping at Costco. Mustn’t forget Hoss wanting to marry L.D.

    1. I’m glad you enjoyed it, Deborah! Thanks for reading and leaving your comments.
      #Laughteristhebestmedicine 🙂

  6. *snort* Every time. Every time I read this I laugh out loud — sometimes at the same things, but I always find something I’d never noticed before as well and this time was no different. A true masterpiece!

    Hope all is good w you. #Moo forever! 😄

  7. A really funny read. I hope you are now convinced the readers of Bonanza stories have enough humor not to kill you about “anachronisms”. 😉

    1. Well, sometimes you feel like a nut… Thanks for the ringing endorsement, faust! Adam, Hoss, and the Cartwright formerly known as Little thank you as well. 🙂 #Moo

    1. Yes, that C sure can sing. He and L do make an adorable couple, even Adam would have to to admit that. Thanks for the read and review, jojay! 🙂

  8. It’s rare for me to laugh out loud while I’m reading. Congratulations for making it on the short list of authors who have gotten me giggling. Brilliant. #Moo.

  9. From “Manly Joe” to “#Moo” to “Mommie, dearest” I was rolling on the floor. What fun! Thanks for the chuckles, JC2.

    1. There’s quite a bit to chew on, isn’t there? I actually think Joe got the best press in this one — and I’m an Adam gal! Go figure! Thanks for reading, Cheaux. 🙂

  10. I was grinning before the F and the bird, but I lost it completely over the Mercados…and, JC*, if you had put this in the “real” tournament I would have hacked the poll and voted several times! This was wonderful! Thank you so much!!!

    1. Never ask me to call a coin toss — I’ll lose every time! I guess I was afraid this might send people screaming and running for the hills. One never knows. Patina called it Poker Tournament dessert and that’s fine by me. Thanks for signing the registry, sklamb. Your compliments will be passed on to the management. 🙂

  11. I’m dying here, I can’t stop laughing. I like these Cartwrights and need to see more of them. I’m so glad that wind swept L and C away. The girl was a nut case to pass up her chance with the ‘bullofthewoods’. Loved all the references and anachronisms. Now I’ve gotta go pack for my stay at the Best Little B & B in Nevada. *giggle*

    1. I’m glad you enjoyed the visit, AC1830. Like Adam said, no one is ever turned away from the Ponderosa, so come often and bring your friends! Thanks for the read and review. 🙂

  12. My only regret is that Lucky Mercado didn’t give us a bongo drum solo, but I’m sure he became a featured performer at the B&B. “Diiiiiiiizzzzyyyyyyyyyyyy!” And I can’t imagine L choosing C over Adam (I think Adam should’ve been allowed another chance since he didn’t know there’d be competition) but I wish them well. Where was it they went again? Somewhere where the wind comes sweepin’ down the plains, I’ll bet. Loved this story. So many little snippets to giggle at and then the outright jaw-droppers (Mommy Dearest??? Gaaaahhhh!!!) Don’t know what you were on when you wrote it, but please send me a carton of it.

    1. Hey, that C is a pretty cute guy and he sings like a dream (sorry Adam). Of course the happy couple went back home, and I can personally vouch for the wind. Hoss is right, Adam should learn some new songs. All I can say is that after writing a downer like Memory I needed a pick me up so I just dove in head first — you know what they say, no guts, no glory. (I consumed quite a few Skittles during the process so I may have been cruising on my own sugar high.) Glad to know you loved it, Sandspur. I love making people laugh! 🙂

  13. This is hysterical! Reminds me of fun times on BW. The anachronisms are perfect in this story. I can see Hoss and Joe making short work of everything in the trunk o’ sugary goodness. lol

    Thank you for this delicious Poker Tournament dessert, JC.

    1. Yes, good times, Patina, good times! Sometimes you just have to let your hair down, right? Glad you enjoyed it — no calories, guilt free. 🙂

  14. That was totally brilliant! Maybe you should have put that up for the tournament. The best bit – peeved was a word I sent in 🙂 #hilarious

    1. And a fine word it was, too! Did I make the wrong choice? That would be par for the course, since I’m notorious for picking the slowest line at the grocery check out. Glad I could make you laugh today, Questfan. We all need a healthy dose of levity from time to time, don’t we? 🙂

  15. Good grief! It’s a good thing I’m not in public trying to read this … I started to lose it right about Adam’s twitter feed (#Moo), and never really got it back … ?

    Fantastic! Thx for sharing!

  16. Oh please! I haven’t even made it past the F and the bird, and can’t see for the tears. Oh, my aching ribs. 😆

    Edited to add: Struggled to finish reading, think I need an appointment with Doc Martin to wrap my ribs, they’re hurting so much.

    Well played JC, well played!!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.