I just want to say thank you to the supportive guest reviewers. I appreciate your comments.
Seven
"So you just had to tell her. I wish you hadn't, Adam. At least not yet."
Laura Dayton had left the house almost at a run, her hand to her mouth as if trying to suppress sobs. Ben, seeing her through the kitchen window, had rushed outside; Adam must have told her about the photograph—and his other female. Laura's face was stiff as she faced Ben. He wanted to comfort her in some way but all she allowed was that he help her up into the buggy. "just let me leave, Mr. Cartwright. Please. I can't…" And Ben had stepped away as Laura picked up the reins and snapped them lightly. He watched her leave, his heart dropping in despair.
"I felt I had to tell her but now, I'm not so sure I should have." Adam sat in a chair next to the fireplace, gazing into the flames that licked around the stacked wood. On the low table in front of him was a cake Laura had made but it sat untouched.
"The photograph—nothing may come from it," Ben said, "and even if it does, well, I've been rethinking my campaign. But despite that, I think you made a mistake in telling Laura about your peccadillo." Ben sat down across from Adam. He leaned forward and clasped his hands.
"It's more than a 'peccadillo'—I was actually 'fond' of the woman and visited her each week, sometimes even more because I wanted to. But lately I'd been having second thoughts about my trysts, feeling guilty for a few weeks now. There's no reason I can't be celibate for a few months until the marriage but I saw the whore because I wanted to, because I enjoyed my time with her. But Laura deserves better than that, better than my being so goddamn dishonest."
"Adam, I can't say I agree with what you did, taking care of your…'needs' the way you did but all men feel the urge and when a man gets to your age and he's not married, well, he finds it a relief to visit…"
Adam suppressed a smile at his father's discomfort; he had long ago come to the conclusion that his father was actually a bit of a prude and had certain ideas about women. The closest his father came to abandoning his high standards of the type of woman with whom to associate was when he married Marie, Joe's mother. And even that had been tame compared to many of the women with whom his sons had associated over the years. After all, Marie DeVaille's adulterous reputation was unjustified but it did add a touch of excitement to Ben's life. And Marie had been beautiful.
"Pa, I can find relief at the end of my own arm. It was more that she—Pa, I think she loved me."
"Oh? Why would you think that? Because she gladly took your money, lay with you and did whatever pleased you? I assume she didn't do all of it gratis. You paid, correct?"
It wasn't like his father to be so sarcastic, Adam considered. That was usually his purview. "Yes, she took my money. But there was just something else…"
"All right. Let's assume the…what's her name?"
"Anna."
"Anna. Let's assume she loves you. How do you feel about her? In light of all that's happened."
"I'm not sure, to tell the truth. It's nice to be loved, adored and such but what did I read once? Something along the lines that there are two parties in a love 'transaction'; the person who loves and the other who condescends to be loved. Maybe I just enjoyed it. Maybe I just condescended. Anyway, I realize now that love with her was just a "transaction". She betrayed me and showed she loves money more than anything or anyone else. If I never see the bitch again, I'll be fine."
"Since you never intend to see…Anna again, why did you unload your conscience on Laura? Did she really need to know?"
"I'm not sure but Laura doesn't know me, who I really am. I felt she should know what's been going on behind her back."
"You've courted her for over a year now. How can you say she doesn't know you?"
"Pa, just listen to me. I've courted Laura, escorted her and Peggy to church, taken them on picnics, out on drives and accompanied Laura to dances and such but she doesn't really know me. I don't think she ever wanted to. If she did really know me, she wouldn't marry me—and now that she does know me, it's proven. She doesn't want to even see me again, not that I blame her. She said I'm no better than Frank. And she's right. But then maybe all men are the same—that all we want is a tight fit between warm thighs.
"Maybe it wasn't best that I tell her but…anyway, the idea that Hoss, Joe, Will and others know about my tendency to wallow in the mud and enjoy a bit of indecent behavior, well, everyone in the family would know but her. I couldn't do that to her, have her play the dupe. Laura had to be given the opportunity to slap me or spit in my face."
"Did she?" Ben was standing by now; he was too upset to sit.
"I think if I hadn't already been hurt, she would have hauled off and walloped me—or should have. But instead she looked as if I'd hit her. I don't know that I can forgive myself for that and if a picture of my ass is printed on the front page of the Territorial Enterprise, it's what I deserve. But that shouldn't affect you and your decision to continue campaigning; a lot of people have a vested interest in you winning."
"Well," Ben stood up straight, "we'll see what happens. The picture may never come to light so we shouldn't worry about things that haven't yet happened."
"Oh, 'Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof,' huh?" Adam smiled. His God-fearing father always had a biblical quote when needed and although Adam wouldn't admit it, sometimes he found comfort in them as he did the one about worrying about what hadn't yet happened.
"You laugh at it, but if you'd read the Bible more, you'd find guidance and you wouldn't have been caught in a whore's bed."
"Oh. I didn't know the Bible gave instructions on how to avoid getting caught."
Immediately Adam regretted his joke; after all, his father was right.
"I'm sorry, Pa. I know it's not a joking matter and I take full responsibility. I guess I have to face the consequences. I'd joke about making my bed and having to lie it but…"
"I think we've had enough jokes." Ben said. "Now we have to wait and see what's going to happen. In the meantime, I think I'll send Will to check on Laura when they all come home to lunch. He'll appreciate the break. I don't know that Will's right for ranch work; he doesn't seem to like it very much, the physical labor part."
"No, but he seems to like spending time with Laura."
"I don't think…"
"All right, Pa, all right! I know I've been a cheating son of a bitch. I know what a poor fiancé I was and I don't blame Laura one bit for breaking off with me. It's just that I don't think that I'm the only one who's been tempted to find a little comfort elsewhere. I'm just the only one who acted on it."
"Now just what do you mean by that? Are you accusing Will of trying to steal Laura away or of Laura being unfaithful with Will?"
"No." Adam knew he should stop before he made any allegation. It was just that he noticed the looks Will gave Laura and the small, private way she had of smiling at Will. Laura would glance at Will, smile wanly, and then look away. The idea that Laura and Will had a singular relationship injured Adam's pride. His pride. If the photograph was published, his pride wasn't worth much at all.
~ 0 ~
"I'm getting cabin fever, Pa. I need to get out. I've been in this goddamn house now for five days. Tell you what-I'll visit the mill and make sure the planing will be done in time. We have to deliver that lumber by Thursday."
"Joe's taking care of that and Hoss is out marking trees; I don't need you to do anything at the moment. And did you not hear what Paul said before he left? Is the ringing in your ears too loud for you to hear properly? He said at least two more days before you can take any jostling. Your balance is off, and you still have a headache. And now you want to ride your horse."
"A little fresh air will clear up my headache. I just need to get out." Adam had been unable to sleep well. Part of it was the lingering headache but the rest was that he kept seeing Laura's face, how hurt she had been when he had told her about Anna, about his visits to the brothel and how he had been photographed in her bed. Laura had been unable to speak at first. And Adam could still clearly see Laura's face change from concern that what he had to tell her was about his health to an expression of shock, pain and disillusionment.
"All this time, Adam, all this time you've been visiting another woman. All this time." Laura hadn't yet cried, hadn't yet registered anything but shock.
"Laura, I'm so sorry that I've hurt you. I…"
"You…and Frank. You're just like Frank was. Both of you. Neither one of you was satisfied…" Her voice drifted off. Then she seemed to gather herself, to summon her pride. "You wanted a woman without scruples or morals in your bed just as Frank did. I wanted Frank to die for what he did to me. Not just on our wedding night but for our whole marriage—humiliating me over and over with any woman he found. And now you've humiliated me too. Oh, how that woman must have laughed behind my back at how ignorant I was."
"Laura, I don't know what I can say." Adam was tempted to reach out for her, to physically comfort her but thought better. Then she turned to him, her blue eyes wide.
"The woman."
"What?"
"A few weeks ago, a woman rode out to the ranch. Beautiful. Dark hair and she wore rouge and lined her eyes. She said her name was Anna. Is that she? Is she the one you've been seeing?"
Adam said nothing. Anna had gone out to Laura's, to the Running D and spoken to Laura. That bitch! How dare she do such a thing?
"How she must have laughed at me behind my back!" Laura laughed as well, but not with pleasure. "I looked like an idiot. She was the woman you've been seeing, wasn't she?"
"Yes."
Laura said nothing else. She picked up her reticule and left the house that would have been her own after her marriage to Adam Cartwright. But that was before.
"Have you looked in the mirror at yourself? You still have two black eyes and that huge bruise on your forehead. If you want fresh air, sit on the porch. But I don't think…"
Adam slid his hands in his back pockets, pursing his lips in frustration. "I'm not asking your permission—I'm just telling you. But if you don't want me to go to the mill, fine. I'll just ride out to the lake. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some thinking to do."
In the back of his mind, he decided he would ride out to the Running D. Peggy would be fascinated by the way he looked; he knew that. And if he rode out and saw Laura, Adam hoped it would exorcise Anna from his soul. Each day, he found himself thinking of Anna more and more and yearning for her, to kiss her mouth and feel her supple body yield to him, for her legs to open to him and her smooth hands glide over his body. Adam would have to remind himself that Anna had betrayed him, sold him out, turned on him. How could he ever have thought she loved him? And how could he ever have speculated on his feelings toward her? Anna was a whore. And whores would do anything for money. Even pretend to love a man. And a man should just fuck a whore, get his money's worth and walk away.
Adam pulled his hat off the rack by the front door while Ben watched his eldest, his expression dark. Adam reached for his gun belt but stopped at the loud, metallic thump of the doorknocker. Adam turned toward his father.
It was about 10:00 in the morning, the day was beautiful, the air crisp. There was nothing insidious about having a visitor this time of day but Ben said, "Wait." Then he walked to the credenza by the door and pulled his gun from its holster.
"Pa, you can't think that…" But maybe it was someone about the photograph. Every day they had expected someone or a letter, something, but up to that day, no one had contacted them.
"Just to be on the safe side."
Adam opened the door and saw two men, one well-dressed in a suit and not armed—at least not visibly. Behind him was a good-sized muscular man with a pock-marked face. He stood at the edge of the porch and looked about.
"Ah, Adam Cartwright," the man in the suit said. "I recognize you from your photograph although you are…standing up." And the man smiled. "And this," he said, gesturing toward the other man, "is Mr. DeBrow, my associate."
DeBrow glanced at Adam and nodded but remained on the front porch while the other man came in and took the offered seat. Ben sat down and was tempted to confront the man but it was Adam's business. It took all his self-control to maintain his silence but he was determined to stay and listen. If he spoke, if he said anything, Adam might ask him to leave—Ben wouldn't take the chance.
"You know who I am—who are you?" Adam leaned forward in his chair.
"That doesn't matter. What does is that I have a photograph of you in a compromising situation."
"Let me see it."
"Why should I show it to you? You know all about it. After all, you were there." The man smiled again. "Too bad about your face."
"My face will heal. Now, if you've come to sell the photograph, I need to see it before I decide to bargain or not."
"I'm selling it but not for money."
The man had known that Cartwright would want to see the photograph but it hadn't come out well. "I needed a few more seconds to get a clear photo but he'd been a helluva lot faster than I'd expected. That son of a bitch leapt out of bed like a jackknife opens and scared the shit out of me. I'm lucky I didn't drop the camera. You should've seen the look in his eyes. If he'd caught me, I swear he would've shoved my camera up my ass," the photographer said as he explained the poor quality of the exposure; the photo was blurry and although one could discern what was going on, there was no way to determine who was in the photograph. "I had to move too fast, should've held the shutter open for a few more seconds but he wasn't posing, you know. I didn't want to do this in the first place but I got you your photo. Now do I get my money or not?"
The photographer was nervous. He should never have taken the job but he needed the money. The rented room over the mercantilist's was small and the rats that crawled around the store at night often paid him a visit as they crawled down from the attic. But it was a room where he could live and develop his photos and he had to pay the rent—and eat. He wanted his promised twenty-five dollars.
"DeBrow," the well-dressed man said, "pay the man, will you. Pay him the amount we discussed." Then he walked out and stood outside the small developing room. He lit a cigarette and heard some furniture turned over and some muffed noises. Then, after a few more satisfying draws from the cigarette, the door opened and DeBrow walked out.
"Well?" the man asked.
"Paid in full, Boss."
"Good." He looked at the photograph again, pulling it from the envelope. Useless. He wouldn't be paid for this miserable piece of work. He had been told to do whatever was necessary to prevent Ben Cartwright from continuing his campaign. Except kill the man. That was the only condition. "Just like Satan and that goddamn Job. Just don't kill the man," he said to himself.
He didn't like being hobbled. But he'd earn his money—some way or the other.
"C'mon DeBrow," he said. "Let's get the hell out of Placerville. I don't like this town. I hear people tend to get killed here." He and a smiling Debrow walked down the outside stairs, mounted their horses and rode back to Virginia City.
Ben Cartwright couldn't resist anymore. He interrupted. "If not for money, for what?"
