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Twin Souls

Ben Cartwright waited in the depot in Carson City for his daughter-in-law's train to pull in from Baltimore. Joe also waited impatiently, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He looked at the huge clock on the stations master's building.

"The train's already ten minutes late."

"Have a little patience, Joe. Wait. Here it comes now." Ben craned his neck and looked out in the distance and saw the plume of black smoke and then the sound of the wheels slowing as it came closer. He anticipated the whistle as it pulled into the station and the screech of the brakes.

His pursed his lips; he hoped Marjorie wouldn't be upset that Adam wasn't there to meet her but she had returned earlier than anyone had anticipated. But you never knew with Marjorie, what would upset and what wouldn't as she had a sense of right and wrong behavior and how a husband and wife should treat one another that was so deeply-ingrained that one never knew at what she would take umbrage. Not even Adam. But she seemed a good wife on the whole and with her black hair, pale skin and bright blue eyes, beautiful. And Adam was happy with her—at least he seemed happy even though Marjorie wasn't a homebody, interested in keeping house or raising children.

When of age, Marjorie had gone to a "modern-thinking" girl's school outside Berlin and had adopted the ideas of the Socialists who met in "ratskellers" and planned to bring changes to the world, to help the poor who, forced into menial jobs could barely survive. And their children were impressed to work as well—the most heinous social injustice of all. Marjorie and her comrades believed women and men were equal and deserved to be educated and independent. Due to this, women everywhere deserved the vote in their philosophy. After all, women were just as intelligent as men and in many ways, more so. Societal reform, Marjorie was fond of saying, was necessary for a futuristic society where all humans had the chance for a good life. And Adam would listen to his wife and smile.

Many a night Adam had sat back in his chair, a look of amusement on his face while Marjorie related her thoughts and feelings about life, about assisting the poor and the Indians. "Since they don't have the education to know what they are capable of doing, well, I think that those of us who are, should help them, guide them. And I also think that demon alcohol should be outlawed."

"Marjorie, an adult should be able to decide for himself—or herself—if they want to drink."

"Oh, and then go home and beat their wives and children. You approve of that?"

"Of course not but society can't dictate what people can and cannot do. We can make laws but people can decide whether or not they want to follow them."

"Adam, why can't you see that socialism is the answer? I know you and your family are wealthy…"

"And you," Adam added.

"Yes, well…that's just circumstance. But many people don't have the wherewithal to decide what's best for them."

"So tell me, my dear, am I correct in surmising that what you're espousing is anti-individualism or collectivism?"

"Well…we don't live in isolation…so…oh, Adam, you enjoy confusing me, don't you?"

Adam chuckled to see Marjorie so flummoxed. "Ah, no man is an island, correct, my sweet?"

"What?"

"John Donne. 'No man is an island unto himself'."

"Exactly. And wouldn't it be wonderful if everyone had the same chances in life? If everyone could profit from everyone else's talents?"

"But what if someone has no talent? What then?"

"You're just trying to confound me again. I hate it when you do that, Adam. I know you think I'm silly—foolish—but I think that if we were a socialist country, well, things would be better for all of us. Don't you agree?"

"I don't know," Adam said. "But if that were the way things were, what about us? What about the way we live as compared to some dirt-poor homesteader? What should we do about them? The Constitution states that 'All men are created equal' but we know they're not. Look at you, Marjorie. You're beautiful—the prettiest thing I've ever seen and you're intelligent and loved…I love you. How can your actions make anyone love Fran Jessup? She has a harelip, reeks of unwashed parts and is none too bright; she can wash dishes in the New House restaurant, follow simple instructions and that's about it. Is she equal to you? Is there any way you can create equity? Surely you wouldn't suggest that I should have married her and taken her to my bed."

Marjorie said nothing. She had stopped pacing in front of her husband. She had no answer. Adam rose from his chair, gave her a light kiss on her cheek, and walked into his den off the main room. She stood and waited. He had said nothing and she wondered if he was going to close the door against her and sip whiskey and maybe smoke a cigar, both things of which she disapproved. But instead he returned with an unusually slim book in his hand. He handed it to her and Marjorie took the book and turned it spine-up to read the title.

"What is this?"

"It's a book by Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels—a rare reprint of their pamphlet really-called The Communist Manifesto originally published 16 year ago. I'm surprised you haven't read. Read it –see how you feel about what they say. It'll only take about a half hour including the added commentary—that is if you ponder it. " Adam retook his seat and picked up the book he had placed on the floor beside him when Marjorie had begun her initial complaint about lack of employment for the Paiutes.

Marjorie paused and stood looking at the book in her hands. The she silently took the stairs. She wanted to read it alone and not under the watching eyes of her husband. Sometimes Marjorie wondered about Adam, what he really thought. He talked and shared ideas when in a group but when they were alone, he reverted to solitary activities. She had considered that the only time Adam included her was when he slid his hand under her nightgown and caressed her thigh. But since she found pleasure with him, Marjorie concluded that things could be worse—much worse.

But Marjorie wasn't just talk. She was involved in fund-raisers and benefits and many of the women in Virginia City, women and girls of all ages, looked to her to lead them "out of the shackles clapped on by society," as she was fond of stating. That resulted in resentment by many of the husbands and fathers in Virginia City and its environs, but what caused the greatest uproar was that Marjorie Cartwright began a temperance league.

"Adam, I don't want any alcohol in the house. It's poison—it ruins people's lives. I poured out the two bottles of whiskey you had in your office. I won't be a hypocrite, lead meetings and protest the saloons serving the devil's poison to patrons and then allow it in my own house." Marjorie raised her chin, waiting for Adam's response.

Earlier, when she had made up her mind to rid the house of whiskey, she broke out in a sweat. Adam enjoyed sipping a glass of whiskey while he read in the evening or when he had company over, whether it be his father or brothers or just someone who came to see him on business. But Marjorie would seethe with anger whenever it happened in her home.

But when she had told Adam about ridding the house of spirits, he had said nothing—just looked at her and then went back to his evening paper. Marjorie was on edge; she had expected an explosion and there was nothing. But the next day Adam went into town and bought a bottle of Irish whiskey and a bottle of aged brandy and brought them home where he showed them to Marjorie who was at her needlepoint, the hoop on its stand in front of her. "And if you pour any of this out, I swear, Marjorie, I will pull you over me knee and give you a few swats. I won't drink in front of you if you prefer and I could understand your objection if I became drunk and beat you or forced you to submit to drunken lust, but that doesn't happen. I enjoy a drink on occasion and if someone comes over, I want to be able to offer them a drink as well. And that's all I'll say about it."

And that was all he said about it and Marjorie didn't dare pour out any more spirits. But that didn't mean that she couldn't try to prevent its sale and the first place to do so was the saloons, the whorehouses and the stores that imported it.

The group of women in Virginia City, most of them middle-aged wives of store-owners and mothers of children, marched with signs, stood outside brothels attempting to shame the patrons and preventing them from entering. The whores only laughed at the protestors and one afternoon, they dumped chamber pots on the women's heads, laughing at the screams from below. On the whole, during the daylight hours, it worked keeping the men away but protestors couldn't be there all day, every day, so business continued as usual after dark, the 'soiled doves" hanging half-dressed over the balcony, calling out to the men

Then one afternoon, Marjorie leading the band of armed women, they destroyed The Bucket of Blood, attacking it with hatchets and breaking the windows with thrown bottles of whiskey, the men not knowing what to do but leave. The two dozen women, including Marjorie Cartwright, spent the night in jail, crowded six to a cell. But Adam stood by his wife's side in front of the judge and paid the fine plus her share of damages.

Although Marjorie wasn't intimidated by the incident, others who had to spend up to a week in jail because their husbands or parents didn't have the money, were not so eager to place themselves in that position again. And that only frustrated Marjorie and she poured her frustration out to Adam.

He was finally fed-up with her. "Marjorie, I don't know that I would bail you out again if you and your 'posse' decide to wreck another saloon. I might just let you sit in a jail cell for a few nights because you happen to believe that you can behave with impunity just because we're a prominent family. The piper always has to be paid—and you expect me to pay him."

Although he never complained to his father, Ben wondered why Adam indulged his wife so much but then Adam had once said that since the war, he found that most things, when put in perspective, really weren't worth the energy used to become upset. So it wasn't that Adam was uxorious, he just didn't care enough to become upset. And Ben suspected that the reason Marjorie suited his eldest son so well was because she was independent; she didn't rely on him for company and he enjoyed not only that freedom but also enjoyed having a wife in his bed. He also had someone with whom to carry on conversation when he was inclined to talk and to leave him alone when he desired silence.