For Want of a Brother, Part Four

by J. Rosemary Moss

I fell quiet right after starting. How was I supposed to explain all this to Adam? What had happened was so shocking that I didn't know how to put it in words.

I clasped my hands together. I could still feel the dampness that covered my wrists. I found myself wondering how close I was to getting the ropes off of me. But I couldn't worry about that now—not with Adam sitting right next to me.

"How old were you when Rosalind was born?" Adam asked, breaking the silence.

"I was four," I answered. "That's when Rosalind and Celia were both born--they were twins."

"Identical?"

I shook my head. "Fraternal. They didn't look much alike. They didn't act much alike either. Rosalind was just like her namesake--she was bright, adventurous and a little mischievous. But unlike Shakespeare's Rosalind, she didn't have a good head on her shoulders, you know? She would do crazy things without thinking."

Adam smiled at that. "That seems to run in the family," he said.

That drew a laugh from me. "Yeah," I said. "I reckon so. Celia's the odd one out: she's a quiet little girl."

I fell silent again as I thought about what to say next.

"Is your father still alive?" Adam prompted.

"No," I answered. "I was twelve when my Ma died. My Pa—my Pa just broke. It's funny, I always thought that Shakespeare was the center of his life, but instead it was my Ma. He couldn't go on without her. He was dead within a year."

I paused as I shut my eyes for a moment, thinking back to both my parents' funerals. Then I pulled myself together and continued. "We sold the little mercantile my folks had owned and moved in with an aunt on my mother's side. When I turned fifteen, I started working as a hand. I moved from one ranch to another until last year, when I got a job with your crew here on the Ponderosa."

"And Rosalind?"

"When she turned sixteen--right about the time I started working for you--she came to Virginia City as well and found a job as a domestic. She ended up being the personal maid to a mine owner's wife. It was a decent, respectable position."

I paused again and twisted my mouth before continuing. "At some point, she met Jack Clayton. He must have impressed her--well, you know what he was like. He was handsome enough and something of a dandy. He must have seemed like a sophisticated, exciting older man."

Adam sighed. "I don't suppose he had any thoughts of marrying her."

I laughed at that—a short, bitter laugh. "Clayton with all his filthy new-money marry a maid? No, he had no such intention. I imagine he showed her a good time--but anyone could have told her that he was on the lookout for a wealthy bride."

I had been looking away from Adam as I spoke, but now I turned my head to face him. "I didn't know about Clayton," I told him. "I lived here on the Ponderosa, and I only got into town once every couple of weeks. I thought my sister might have met some fellow--she seemed so happy—but I never dreamed that she'd let herself fall for a man who wouldn't do the right thing by her."

I sighed and looked away again. I found myself staring at the fireplace across the room. "Last night when I was at the Silver Dollar, one of the girls that Rosalind worked with--another maid in the same house—came in and tapped me on the shoulder. She said that Rosalind—that Rosalind was 'in trouble' and that she wasn't well and that we had to get her to a doctor. I followed her out, somewhat in shock. But the thing is, Adam--the thing is that Rosalind had already been to a doctor, or someone who had claimed to be a doctor. And now she was dying."

I looked his way again as I spoke those last words. He sighed and covered his eyes with his hand.

"We got Rosalind to a real doctor," I continued, "but it was too late. But she told me the story. When she realized that she was with child she had gone to Clayton, expecting that he would marry her. He told her that he was sorry, but that was quite impossible. And then he gave her money and the name of this so-called 'doctor.' He assured her that would be best for everyone concerned. No one wanted a scandal, he said."

Adam put down his hand and looked me straight in the eye. "Reuben--"

I shook my head. "No, let me finish. She died soon after she told me what happened. I made arrangements for the body and then I went straight to Sheriff Coffee. I asked him what he was going to do about Jack Clayton."

I shut my eyes for a moment, remembering the scene in Coffee's office. I felt Adam put his hand on my shoulder as I struggled to get the words out.

"Sheriff Coffee said that there was nothing he could do about Clayton," I continued, forcing myself to keep my voice even. "He said that he would go after the 'doctor,' although the fellow was probably out of town by now. I said that was fine, but how could Clayton go free? Coffee said he was sorry, but as far as the law was concerned, Clayton hadn't done anything wrong. If it were up to him, he added, the law would be different."

I took a deep breath. "Well, I appreciated Coffee's sentiments, but they didn't do me any good. It was morning by now--the sun had just come up. So I went outside and sat and thought."

Adam shifted his arm so that it was around my other shoulder and drew me against him. I didn't object--hell, I think I even put my head down on his shoulder, just as if he'd really been my older brother.

The only thing that worried me was my slick wrists. I didn't want him to notice that I'd been trying to get free of the ropes. But fortunately the blankets still covered enough of me.

"At length I walked over to Clayton's office," I said. "I walked straight inside, shut the door behind me and told him what happened to my sister. He was sorry, he said. She was so young and pretty and full of life. It was a terrible shame. Yes, he had sent her to that doctor--it had seemed the best thing for both of them. He didn't want Rosalind's reputation ruined. And he'd be glad to pay for the funeral."

Adam tightened his grip on my shoulder.

"I pulled out my gun and shot him," I said. "But the first bullet didn't satisfy me—well, you know about that part."

Adam didn't say anything; he just drew me a little closer to him. I don't know how long we sat there--I was just glad for his company.

But I had another reason to be glad. At some point, I realized that one of my hands was slick enough to twist out of the ropes. I didn't do anything right away, though. I just stayed there, sitting with Adam as we both stared into the fireplace.