Picture This
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Keen eyed viewers will be able to attest that Ben Cartwright’s desk occasionally
played host to three portraits, one of each of his late wives: Elizabeth, Inger
and Marie. Of course, more often than not, these pictures were nowhere to be
seen.
“Where do you think they go to?” the blonde mused one afternoon, sitting on the
porch with her sister, Joe and their pet bear, Paw. It was a beautiful summer’s
day and the air was full of the scent of roses, which bloomed riotously from the
climbing rose that wound its way up one of the pillars.
“Perhaps Ben takes them up to bed with him?” the redhead suggested idly,
noticing that there was rather a lot of greenfly on the rose bush. Perhaps she
should have a little word with Hop Sing and suggest he threw the soapy dishwater
all over it? “Maybe he gets lonely at night and they keep him company?”
Joe just shrugged and pulled off his shirt to make sure he didn’t get any
unsightly tan lines. After all, his smooth, golden chest was a sure-fire ratings
winner! The sisters looked at his impressive musculature and sighed happily. Paw
looked a bit peeved, for his chest was covered in fur and any muscles were
effectively hidden. Along with the rolls of fat, for he was rather rotund.
“And why aren’t there any pictures of you, Adam and Hoss?” the blonde asked,
just as Adam came out to join them.
“Photographs are expensive,” he explained. “And you have to remember the science
is still in its infancy, with long exposure times and…”
Adam was an erudite and well-educated chap, but he did have a slight tendency to
go on a bit. As he paused for breath, the redhead jumped in.
“But it would be lovely to have a picture of the three of you together!”
Adam looked at Joe and smiled sardonically. “You’d have to sit at the front,
buddy!”
Joe grinned lazily. “Age before beauty, older brother! But you’d better not ruin
any photograph with that finger gesture! Remember how annoyed Pa was that time?”
Adam cringed slightly. They had all been posing for a souvenir photograph to
celebrate the railroad, when he’d inadvertently slipped one finger out of his
jacket pocket. When that picture was developed, Ben had steadfastly refused to
pay for it and his fury was so loud and so sustained that the photographic plate
had shattered into multiple pieces.
“It would be lovely for Ben to have a photograph of the three of you, just in
case…” the blonde said dreamily, giving Adam a guileless smile, which made him
feel slightly uneasy.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he demanded. “I’m not going anywhere!”
“Of course not,” the redhead murmured, making him feel even more uneasy. Giving
Adam a meaningless smile she went on, “But I suppose a photo of the three of you
would walk about as well. After all, look at the way that scary Indian picture
moves around. Why I saw it in Bitter Water, on the wall in the saloon! And it
certainly follows your room around, Joe.”
“Tell me about it,” Joe muttered, gloomily. “The one thing I can never get rid
of is that scary Indian picture!”
“The horse statue in the living room is quite mobile, too,” the blonde remarked.
“It pops up in your bedroom in MBK, Joe.”
“Never,” Adam scoffed. “That’s rubbish! It’s just a similar statue.”
“No its not,” protested the redhead, who coveted that statue for her collection.
“And I saw it in Boss Sladen’s office in The Boss.” She sighed. “Maimed Joe, a
nice JPM, that sexy black sling, but why did they keep tucking that blanket
around you?” she asked, glancing once more at Joe’s wonderful golden chest. She
felt positively weak at the knees.
Joe shot Adam a look. “When you came back, you didn’t even ask if I was all
right,” he complained. “You just nodded to me, as though I was a total stranger!
Any other brother would have been concerned about me.”
“You were sitting on the wagon seat,” Adam protested. “So you must have been all
right! And you were quick enough to shoot that fellow before he could kill
Karen. And you used your injured arm to sight along.”
“I might just have been being brave,” Joe muttered.
“You were,” the blonde sighed. “Very brave. As always.”
“You never even wrote when I was blinded in The Stillness Within!” Joe whinged,
while managing to retain his boyish vulnerability. Adam sighed loudly.
“You were blind! What did you think – your seeing-eye dog would read it out loud
to you?”
Joe looked black affronted, which was a Scottish skill he had picked up from the
Giggly Sisters. For the benefit of overseas readers, this was not dissimilar to
pouting, but with attitude. A bit like wearing a kilt in broad daylight.
“You didn’t seem too bothered when I was Bushwhacked either,” Joe said
disconsolately.
Adam was reaching the very limits of his patience. “What more do you want me to
do? Send you a stuffed animal?”
The blonde and the redhead smiled broadly.
“Now, that’s a curious turn of speech,” the blonde remarked, and her sister
nodded in agreement. The blonde was a noted expert in English Language, after
all. “Always makes me think of taxidermy.”
“A strange phrase,” Adam cringed at the picture this conjured up, but before he
could say anything, Ben bustled in.
“I’ve just bought another picture!” he announced proudly. “A beautiful landscape
to brighten up the living room.”
“That’ll make a change from the murky daubs currently displayed. Had you left
your spectacles at home the day you bought them?” the redhead said nonchalantly.
Ben looked askance. “These pictures are original works of art!”
Adam and Joe tried very hard not to laugh out loud. The pictures were so dark
and dingy it was impossible to tell what the subject matter actually was. In
fact, they would make Whistler’s Mother look like a positive riot of colour by
comparison.
“I do like that picture of Marie on your desk,” the blonde cooed, in seductively
dulcet tones. They’d run special classes in cooing attractively at her ladies’
seminary, along with lessons in how to prepare snacks for bridge parties. Ben
favoured her with a loving smile.
“She was a beautiful woman. Ah, Marie…”
“My Love!” everyone chorused dutifully, recognising a cue when they heard one.
“Have you never fancied having your portrait painted?” the redhead asked.
“You’re such a distinguished man and it would look so fitting over the
fireplace!”
Joe and Adam exchanged sceptical looks. The fireplace was enormous and dominated
the entire living room with a dull, oppressing greyness that sucked the colour
out of all the surrounding furniture and cast. Ben had realised this early on
and had cunningly insisted that the costume designers fashion him a dark,
aubergine coloured shirt to stand out in splendid contrast. At the same time,
Adam had made an ill-advised foray from red shirts into black and thereafter
tended to rather recede into the background when placed in interior scenes.
Realising this, he’d insisted on more outdoor scenes, but sadly, these
necessitated the wearing of a custard coloured coat in order to provide the
necessary contrast against the multitude of Ponderosa pines.
“I did have my portrait painted once,” Ben explained magnanimously. “By the
Countess. Of course, it turned out that she was a trifle deranged…”
“She thought I could have been her son!” Joe interjected, less than helpfully.
Tact was somewhat of an unknown quantity to him at moments of stress. The blonde
realised that it would be diplomatic to intervene. Years of working in the
exciting world of government service had given her this edge.
“I’ve always been especially interested in one of your landscapes!”
Ben looked interested. “Which one would that be, my dear?”
The blonde looked a trifle abashed. “It’s difficult to describe, because I’ve
never had a clear view of it. Whenever we see an exterior shot of the front
door, there appears to be a wall about six feet in, running parallel to the
front door and there’s a picture on it. But the funny thing is – once you
actually get inside, there’s no wall in sight at all!”
“I’ve noticed that!” Joe announced. “There’s an awful draft blows in under that
door and swirls around your ankles!”
It was at moments like these that Ben wished the sisters weren’t so observant!
He had no idea where that wall came from, or where it went, either, for that
matter! It was a bit like the pine trees that sometimes grew in the yard, which
came and went alarmingly, and frequently frightened the horses. Ben thought they
were ridiculous; why would anyone in their right mind leave trees in the yard?
It was difficult enough to get into the yard as it was without having to
negotiate the chicane of trees as well! “Err,” he said, lost for words. He
goggled wildly at the inept script girl, but she was dozing in the sunshine and
going a shade of red that even the redhead couldn’t manage. And that was saying
something.
“I could lend you some pictures,” the redhead offered, kindly. Her stitching
really needed changing around so she could show off some different pictures.
“And don’t worry that the smoke from the fire will make them as dirty as your
other pictures,” she went on. “They have glass in front of them.”
“Could I get rid of the scary Indian and the washed out seascape?” Joe asked,
plaintively. He looked at the redhead. “How is the picture of my cowboy boots
coming along?” he asked, eagerly, for the redhead had promised to stitch it just
for him.
The redhead winked at him as Ben spluttered. He chose the pictures for the
house, no-one else!
The blonde gave another of her charming smiles. “I think you should get a family
photograph taken and hand it in pride of place. Just think how the fans would
adore that!”
Ben nodded; she certainly was a clever little filly! And squeezable too! He gave
her a pat on the knee.
“Oh yes!” Joe said happily. “With the girls and Paw too. After all, he’s like a
son to me!”
All of a sudden, Ben felt a dark cloud come over his personal horizon and blot
out all the sunshine. So far, he’d managed to stay the tongues of Virginia
City’s finest gossips, who were a trifle put out at the fact the Giggly Sisters
appeared to have taken up residence on the Ponderosa. But how could he begin to
explain the presence of a furry grandson?
The End
Giggly Sisters Productions
July 2003