Walnut Grove, Minn.-I’m the stagecoach driver that just had the experience of dropping Charles Ingalls and his son off in front of the hotel in Walnut Grove, and let me tell you, this was not the experience I was expecting.
I had heard of the Ingalls family before. Who hasn’t heard of Charles Ingalls? The man is practically a legend around these parts. All these stories about how they were pillars of the community, such a great family. It goes on and on.
Well, when I saw Ingalls boarding my stagecoach with his son Albert, I thought my time had finally come: I get to experience the Ingalls family for myself. And what do I get? I get to pick up Albert’s discarded bloody rag.
I overheard them talking about these nose bleeds the boy has been getting, and I feel for him. I mean, that just really is unfortunate. And inconvenient. Do you know what else is inconvenient, though? Picking up this rag that is just littered with the boy’s blood that he just carelessly put on the stage coach seat. Other people need to use this stage coach, you know.
All these great stories about Charles Ingalls–how he cured an alcoholic father who had been beating his son, how he helped an Indian Chief get medical treatment, how he helped Albert overcome his morphine addiction in just a couple short days. You mean to tell me he could do all those things but he couldn’t tell his son to pick up his bloody rag?
This seat is going to have to be cleaned now, you know. That’s not in my job description. No sir. I signed up to drive the wagon. You expect some cursory tidying here and there, but this bloody rag is over the top. I can’t just leave it there though. The next passengers would be all over me about having to sit on top of someone’s blood.
Do you think anyone would notice if I just flipped the cushion over? Heck, do these cushions even flip over? That one time I rolled the wagon down a hill they stayed in place, so I’m thinking maybe they don’t.
