Chapter 2
Monday
After a minor battle with Mr. Goodman, Juliet managed to make it out of the bureau quite early that afternoon. Dr. Martin readily agreed to take her in his buggy to the Ponderosa, since he always found it nice to have some company on the long drive to the ranch house.
Ben Cartwright was obviously relieved to see the doctor, even though Adam seemed to be as fine as anybody could wish, but from the way he greeted Juliet with, "I didn't expect you to pass by so soon." it became quite clear that he didn't assign these feelings on her, too. If Juliet noticed his reservation she didn't let on. Instead she beamed at her reluctant host with one of her brighter smiles and handed him the hamper she had brought.
"I thought you might not have the time or energy to cook, so I asked Mrs. Hawkins to prepare something for three hungry men... And there's some broth for Adam, too."
Ben looked at her, surprised. "That was...very thoughtful of you, Miss Heatherstone." He considered her for a moment and then, with a tiny smile only the most suspicious would have called mischievous, he added, "If you follow me into the kitchen I show you where you'll find everything to heat the broth."
Juliet stared at him, beaten. She opened her mouth, but clearly was at a loss for words.
"Broth," the doctor filled in. "Very thoughtful, indeed, Miss Heatherstone. I never mentioned it, knowing Hop Sing wasn't here. That's exactly what Adam needs now. If you have it ready right after I examine him, that would be perfect!"
Juliet pressed her lips together, crossed her arms on her chest and glared at the two men.
Both Ben and Doctor Martin saw her jaws working and each began to count down inwardly towards the inevitable outburst.
Juliet lifted her chin in that very familiar imperious gesture, raised an eyebrow and announced, "Very well. I'll do what's necessary. I hope your cooking equipment meets my requirements."
And with that she swept into the kitchen, her skirt swishing somehow indignantly, leaving Ben and the doctor nonplussed.
ooOoo
When Dr. Martin descended the stairs, announcing that all was well, and Adam's wound showed no signs of infection or other complications, Juliet had just emerged from the kitchen, her hair in even more disarray than usual, holding a steaming bowl of heavenly smelling beef broth and a spoon in her hands and with a dishcloth draped over her right shoulder. If not for her sumptuous black and cream striped skirt, her ivory silk blouse and her elaborately embroidered vest, she could have been mistaken for a kitchen maid.
Of course, a kitchen maid wouldn't glare at Ben Cartwright as he tried to pass her at the foot of the stairs, or use that clipped accent to admonish him, "Excuse me, but this soup is getting cold when not served immediately. And I'd like to talk to Adam alone, if you don't mind."
Of course, a kitchen maid would have been send on her way with a month worth of wages at that point, but since he could hardly do this to the Bearer of The Broth—and Juliet seemed to know that very well—Ben just glared back, silently fighting an eye-duel with her for a few seconds, then finally sighed and, shaking his head, gave in.
"Oh, certainly. Just go ahead; you know the way already."
A regal nod of her head, only a slight tilt, barely visible, "Thank you, Mr. Cartwright", and she swept up the stairs, again leaving behind two bewildered men.
Juliet stifled her giggle before she entered Adam's room.
"I don't bring a basket of goodies, but since you're not my grandmother, I assume broth is more suitable anyway," she said by way of greeting.
"And since I'm not the big, bad wolf, I will stick to the broth and spare you, Red Riding Hood," Adam replied with a chuckle. "I was very relieved when Paul told me about the broth, Juliet. Pa already threatened me with bread soaked in milk." Adam pulled a face and shuddered at the thought. His wince at the movement was microscopic, but Juliet noticed it anyway.
"Are you in pain, Adam? Do you need the doctor to come back?"
"No, no, it's all right. I'm fine. As long as I don't move I'm fine as frog's hair."
"As—what?"
"As frog's hair."
"Are you sure you're well?" Juliet put the bowl on the nightstand and bent down to Adam to search his face. "Maybe you're running a fever?"
"I'm not delusional, Juliet. It's only a saying."
"The frog's hair?"
"Yes."
"Oh. Ha, ha." She tried a sarcastic face, but couldn't help sniggering. "Fine as frog's hair. That's nihilism, Adam. Pure nihilism."
"Whatever you say, Mylady. Now wasn't there some broth?"
"Oh, yes." She handed him bowl and spoon, and sat down on the bedside. "Careful, it's still quite hot."
"Smells delicious. Don't tell me you made it."
"You wouldn't want to eat anything I made, Adam." She gave him a surprisingly thoughtful look. "At least I assume not. I would rather let Mrs. Hawkins cook it."
"However, it was very th—"
"If you say thoughtful, I will start to scream, Adam!"
"I'd like to hear that one day, really, Juliet, but not now, please." Adam chuckled, albeit very carefully, so not to disturb his wound anymore. "What's wrong with thoughtful, anyway?"
"Your father and Doctor Martin already said that, as if it were a major miracle that I brought it. As if I'm completely inept at caring for others." She sounded more wounded than Adam thought possible; and she lowered her gaze to study her hands.
Gingerly Adam reached out and lifted her chin. He waited until her eyes finally met his. "You are very apt in caring for others, Juliet. Don't let anyone make you think differently." He saw her eyes getting watery. "What's eating at you, Juliet?" he asked very softly.
Juliet turned her face away and pulled out of his hold. She shook her head. "I...I'm tired, that's all. I haven't slept much last night. Just like everybody, I suppose." She looked at him, nearly pleading to let it go. Then she stood, pulled the rocker from the place at the window, where Ben Cartwright had left it only this morning, next to the bed, sat down on it and leaned back. She gazed at Adam, and suddenly she looked as composed as ever.
"Now eat your soup, Adam, before it's cold."
He looked back at her. Well, he could play along, if this was what she wanted. He lifted the spoon in a mock salute. "Aye, Madam."
Juliet smiled. "That's the spirit! And if you're a good boy and eat it all, I shall read you something, after you've finished."
ooOoo
It was late afternoon and Dr. Martin long gone, when Hoss, who had finally finished repairing the barn roof, harnessed the buggy and prepared to drive Miss Juliet back to Virginia City once again; and Joe, who had come home from the north pasture only half an hour earlier, was sent upstairs with two mugs of tea.
When Joe entered Adam's room, he found his brother reading silently. Joe couldn't help but laugh. Only Adam would read while having a lady sitting at his side.
"What, have you run out of topics already?"
"Shh." Adam nudged his head to Juliet, who was sitting on the rocker, her hands neatly folded in her lap, her head lying at a very uncomfortable looking angle on her left shoulder. Her eyes were firmly closed, and her chest was falling and rising in a calm, steady rhythm.
Joe put the mugs on Adam's bedside table, turned to the rocker and gazed into Juliet's relaxed face. He couldn't believe it. "She fell asleep on you?"
"Be quiet," Adam hissed at him. He watched Juliet for a moment, but she didn't stir. "Just get out. And, Joe, be smart, don't ever talk to her about this."
"What? But—"
"Don't tease her about this, Joe. Just—don't." Adam caught his brother's eye. "She's worn out. She hasn't slept at all last night; just let her rest a while."
"You mean she's human after all? "
"Joe..."
"All right, all right, I don't say a word." Joe crouched down a bit to look at Juliet again. "She looks different with her eyes shut. Cute."
Adam chuckled quietly. "Don't tell her that either. I'm sure she doesn't want to be seen as 'cute'!" He gazed at the sleeping lady. Joe was right, she looked somehow cute, and tame, and mild; and Adam fervently missed the spark in her stormy eyes, the sarcastic arch of her brow and her teasing voice. "Now go. Quietly."
Joe left the room, barely suppressing a giggle, and Adam resumed his perusal of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.