The Porch Light

by jfclover

I buckled my gun belt, slipped on my jacket, and as I reached for my hat, I was almost out the front door when Pa started in on me with his hateful words about the woman I loved.

“She’s not the right girl for you, Joseph.”

“You don’t know her, Pa.  You’re judging a woman you’ve never met.”

“I know enough, Son.  I know that women like her are only after one thing.  Cartwright money.”

“What?  Like my mother?  Is that what Mama was after?”

“Watch what you say, Boy.  Don’t compare your mother to a girl like—”

“Don’t say it, Pa.  Callie is a fine girl.  She’s had a bad life.  It doesn’t mean she’s bad inside.”

“Sit down, Joseph.”

I’d met Callie three weeks ago, and we’d been seen out and about in Virginia City, and that’s the part that drove my father to distraction.   No Cartwright should be seen with a woman who had less than a stellar reputation.  I found that out early on when Julia and I were together.  Adam had the same problem with Sue Ellen Terry, but I was a year older now, and I should be able to court a woman without my father stepping in and trying to disrupt our relationship.

My feelings ran deep.  Callie and I had things in common that Pa wouldn’t understand.  We were both the youngest.  We had older siblings who would always think of us as the baby of the family.  We both had overpowering fathers who set down the law and expected it to be obeyed.  That’s why Callie left her home in Eastern Illinois and headed west.  She’d had enough, but when her money ran out, she took the only job she could get.  Working at a saloon was an unpleasant occupation for any young woman, and I planned to remedy that as soon as possible.

Pa’s speech cut me to the bone.  He knew exactly what he was saying, and every word so far had been hurtful.  When my father motioned to the settee, I took a seat and waited for the next lecture to begin.  And it did.

“I’m not trying to hurt you, Son.”  I turned my head.  His outburst had already done that.  “I just want you to think things through.”

“I’m old enough to make my own decisions, Pa.  Can’t you let me choose for myself who’s right for me or who’s wrong?”

“I want all my sons to make the right decisions, but this time, I think you need to look at this from—”

“That’s enough, Pa.  I stood to my feet.  “You wouldn’t say these things to Adam or Hoss.  Only me.  Only the baby of the family.”  I crossed the room and grabbed my hat off the credenza.  “Don’t leave the porch light burning.  I’ll stay the night in town.”

Pa rose to his feet.  “Joseph!”

I didn’t turn and answer, and after entering the barn, I pushed passed both brothers to saddle my horse.

“Hey, Little Brother.  I just got him bedded down.”

“I’ll have to un-bed him then.  I’m going to town.”

“Tonight?”

I didn’t want to discuss the reason I was leaving.  My brothers would find out soon enough.  Pa would fill them in on everything that was said.  Part of me wanted to say goodbye.  Maybe I’ll see you sometime, but even though they stared at me while I saddled Cooch and rode out of the barn, I didn’t say a word.

*~*~*

Tinny pianos sounded as I rode past the edge of town.  Not one, but three different songs floated through the batwings of three different saloons, although I was only interested in one, The Silver Dollar.  Saturday nights were lively, and Callie wasn’t expecting me, but I’d slip her a few dollars more than she’d earn entertaining cowboys and miners and whatnot so we could be together.

Since I intended to stay overnight at the International, I stabled Cochise at the livery, and as I walked up the boardwalk, I witnessed a miner flying through the batwings.  A brawl this early in the night was unusual, though not unheard of, but I didn’t come to brawl.  I came to see my girl and prove Pa wrong.

I couldn’t begin to count the number of saloons in Virginia City, and beside the Bucket of Blood, the Silver Dollar ranked high on my list.  I suppose everyone had a favorite watering hole, but I hadn’t been anywhere else since I met Callie.  She drew me in the first night I met her.  Pretty.  Blonde.  Shapely and fun to be with.  Who could ask for more?

As my bootheels struck the wooden planks of the boardwalk, I tried to think of different ways I could ask Callie to become my wife.  Pa wouldn’t be happy, and after tossing another lecture my way, he might try other tactics.  “You’re too young.  How on earth will you support a wife?”  The same questions that I’d already run through my mind would be shouted at me like I was nothing more than a dumb kid.

I had some savings.  Seventy-seven dollars was written in my bankbook, and if we were careful, we could make it last until I found a job breaking horses or putting myself out there as a top wrangler.  Since Callie wasn’t welcome on the Ponderosa, finding a ranch that included a house for married couples would be a priority.  Callie could fix the place up any way she wanted.  Lace curtains or whatever suited a girl’s fancy would be fine by me.

Callie and I made an arrangement over a week ago.  We became exclusive.  She would only serve drinks to the endless array of customers, and I would make up the difference in her pay.  No one could live on tips alone, so I made sure she’d have enough to get by.  I could tell she felt bad, felt she was a burden, but I’m the one who suggested we work things out that way.  Once she realized how serious I was about our relationship, she agreed to my proposition.

*~*~*

“How ‘bout a beer, Bruno.”

“Sure thing, Little Joe.”

Even though the saloon buzzed with Saturday Night zeal, I should’ve been able to spot Callie, but there were times when she slipped out the back door for a breath of air.  I understood why, and I couldn’t blame her for wanting to get away from the hustle and bustle and constant noise that spilled through the batwing doors. 

I hooked my bootheel over the rail and tipped my beer until the glass was halfway gone.  That’s when I spotted Callie, and that’s when my heart jumped straight to my throat.  As she floated down the staircase, her giggles and dancing eyes said more than she’d want to share if she knew I was anywhere near.  With her hand hooked through Lester Mahoney’s right arm, I knew what had taken place in the room upstairs. 

After promising to be true to each other, our arrangement had been dissolved in a flourish of giddy laughter, and I’d been taken for a fool.  I’d given her my heart and half of my savings, and for what?  So she could throw it back in my face.  My father was right.  I was nothing but a stupid kid, and after slipping out of the saloon, I marched down to the livery, saddled my horse, and led Cochise from his stall.

I was anxious to see the look on Pa’s face, and the compassionate set of eyes that relayed the most significant silent words, “I’m glad you’re home, Son.”

I’d been a brazen fool and told Pa I’d be staying the night in town, but when I rode into the yard and felt the first flakes of snow hit my face, not only was the porch light burning, but every lamp inside the house illuminated every front-facing window.  My father would never hold a grudge.  He’d be asleep in his red leather chair but jump to his feet when he realized I was home.  Any words that had been said earlier in the night would become a distant memory.

Callie was a hard-earned lesson, but my father would never harp on the obvious.  We’d eat and sleep and work as usual, and my reckless mistakes would be left behind.  I was lucky to have a pa that understood my shortcomings and pushed me in the right direction.  In time, I hoped to make my father proud of the man I’d one day become.

The End – 1 – 2026