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My grandmother once told me that people with proper upbringing do not discuss personal issues with anyone other than close family – and not even then! Although I am breaking all the rules of upper crust society, I feel compelled to share with you what next happened. I know you'll understand my position in this terrible drama. Of all those involved, I am, as I'm certain you'll agree, the most deserving of sympathy and understanding.

I stood outside after Mary had left me. I had initially felt confident but suddenly, I was afraid and wanted to run home, go to my room and wait for the clap of thunder from Zeus on high! How dare I love Aphrodite's Adonaïs and vie for him?

I would tell my father that I had a head ache and was therefore, forced to leave the dance early – if he was still awake – and then use it to avoid church in the morning. I couldn't face Adam if Mary had lied about me. Yes, perhaps Mary, in her caution, told Adam I flirted with her, tried to kiss her and to steal her away from him. Mary might just do that.

You see, I could tell Mary was conniving so I applied logic. If Mary was sure of Adam, knew that the idea of a beautiful boy wouldn't appeal to him, that her full breasts and wide-hips drew him, she would tell Adam that I desired him and warn that he should dodge me. That knowledge would make Adam uncomfortable and he would avoid me for the duration of my time on the Ponderosa – just two months. For those months, I would be given the worst jobs, and if I continued to stay in the house, I would be ignored and perhaps, even relegated to the bunkhouse again in the hopes I would leave. Adam would also avoid me in Virginia City and eventually, so would his family after he told them. My reputation would be ruined in Virginia City and perhaps, by association, my father's. And Little Joe would giggle every time he saw me. That would be the worst! That giggling!

You may agree with Mary, truly believe that Adam, being the type of man he is, would shun me. But in Ancient Greece – and people are people through the ages – full-lipped men with chiseled cheeks, broad shoulders and tempting narrow hips, were desirable. And Greek heroes were always, "xanthos," golden or tawny – whether in hair or skin. I was golden-haired, true, but Adam's skin was gold-tinged from the sun. Also, Adam fit the idea of male perfection and I can't believe that as beautiful as he is, he wasn't often the target of lesser mortals – both men and women who wanted to touch him, kiss him and lie with him. And he might still have the taste in his mouth of a male partner, still remember the gut-shaking sensations.

And, considering all this, if Mary wasn't sure of Adam, in order to make him turn against me just on principle, she would say I grabbed her, tried to kiss her, derided him as not much of a man and purported I was the better of the two of us and could better please her – raise her to ecstatic heights. Well, Mary might not be as poetic, but she could say something along that line. And then Adam might even punch me in the nose or worse.

I took a deep breath and decided I would go back inside. On the far side of the yard, Little Joe was standing under an oak tree with a girl, pressing her against the trunk and I'm sure, attempting to seduce her. But she was giggling and feigning attempts to get away but yet allowing him to kiss her. Others were holding hands as they strolled under the stars and couples seemed everywhere, sitting on the porch, in wooden chairs set out under the Chinese lanterns – everywhere. And as I approached the open double doors of the social hall, Adam came toward me with a young lady on his arm with Mary following behind, watching.

"There you are, Virgil," Adam said, smiling. I sighed in relief; Mary hadn't yet worked her venom. "This is Miss Myra Rivers. Myra, Virgil Weems."

I smiled at her. She was pretty enough, about 15, I'd say, with strawberry-blonde curls about her shoulders, blue eyes, and wearing a lacy high-necked blue and white checked dress. She looked like a schoolgirl.

"How do you do, Myra?" I said, taking her proffered hand while Mary watched, her eyes, narrow, glittering in the lights. "I'm happy to meet you." Myra giggled and blushed.

"You are as handsome as Mary said!"

I looked at her and a small smile played about Mary's mouth. "So, it's Mary I have to thank."

"And Adam! He told me about your black eye and such. How brave you are to have stood up for yourself in front of all those men!"

I glanced at Adam and he shrugged, then smiled. "Why don't you two dance? The night's still young and there's a full moon!" He grinned and Mary stepped up and slipped her arm through his.

"Let's go dance as well," Mary said, smiling up at Adam and then glancing back at me – just once – the Gorgon gaze as if she hoped it would turn me to stone.

Myra and I danced and I, with an amused smile, listened to her chatter about herself and the others. Oh, Myra was just a silly girl but dancing with her, I could watch Adam and Mary dance. Adam was light on his feet and appeared to enjoy dancing. Mary, she smiled and let herself be moved about but she was a bit clumsier. And during a slow waltz, I watched as she pressed herself against him. I'm certain she was attempting to arouse him and she must have succeeded because next I saw, they were heading for the door, pausing just to pickup Adam's hat and gun belt and Mary's wrap. And Mary searched the dancers, caught my eye, and smiled – as my grandmother would say, "like the cat who ate the canary."

I left soon after, walking Myra home. At her door, she lingered.

"I'm glad I met you tonight. I'll thank Mary and Adam tomorrow – in church. Will you be there, Virgil?"

"Are you good friends with Mary?" I asked.

"Not really – she's so much older – almost 30 and been married and all. Everyone expects her and Adam to marry soon. We're waiting for the banns to be read. Apparently, they were quite the item years ago when I was just a small child. Now, about church…"

I promised Myra I would sit with her the following morning. Really, what could it hurt?

"And Virgil, perhaps you'll come to supper? I'm sure, since your father and mine are friends, that my parents would love to have you!'

"I can let you know tomorrow; I think my father may have planned something for us to do together." A white lie; I didn't think that at all. But Myra looked so disappointed. I bent down and kissed her. It wasn't unpleasant but the meeting of our lips didn't inspire any emotion – not even disgust and that was pleasant enough in itself. Sweet Myra beamed and then went inside.

I slowly walked home, ruminating over the evening. The thought that haunted me was of Adam and Mary locked in an embrace, their bodies slick with sweat and Mary, her back arched while in the throes of ecstasy while Adam rode her. The bitch.

I stopped in the outhouse, then went to the front door and opened it, knowing I was home earlier than expected. One lamp burned in the parlor and I think it was for me. I turned down the wick and then slowly, my eyes adjusting to the new dark, made my way up the stairs. At the turn into the hall, I paused as I heard a noise. At the end of the hall, on my side, a door opened, light escaping, and my father came out, holding his robe together, his chest bare. I stepped back into the greatest darkness, just peeking, and saw my father then go into his bedroom and shut the door. He had been with Mrs. Chastain. And I didn't know what to think. My father and Mrs. Chastain locked together in passion. Ridiculous. Absurd. Disgusting. Sex was only for the young and beautiful!

I quietly went to my room and softly closed the door behind me. I quickly undressed and slipped between the cool sheets. My head was spinning. So much had happened – so many new things had occurred. I lay awake for what must have been hours but finally, I must have fallen asleep because next I knew, the sun was edging in my window and Mrs. Chastain was knocking on my door and telling me breakfast was ready – pancakes - and to dress for church.

Church – Myra Rivers – Mary Mackenzie – and hopefully, Adam. But Mary held him fast in her harpy's talons, I was sure, especially after last night. But Adam hadn't yet, to my knowledge, asked Mary to wed him. I quickly shaved although I could go days without it but it always made me feel older. Then I dressed in not-my-best clothing, but far nicer than last night. And a splash of Bay Rum.

Mrs. Chastain scurried about, already dressed for church, the fabric straining a bit over her large bosom. She poured the coffee and fussed over me while my father staidly ate. I wondered what mornings were like when she and my father were alone. Did he pinch her plump cheeks and pat her ample buttocks, pull her on his lap and chuck her under her double chins? Did she call him "Edward" or "Eddie" or even worse, "darling sweetheart"? Already, my father had slipped once and called her "Polly". Well, I couldn't be bothered with something as common as my father sleeping with his housekeeper. Besides, it was she who, in my opinion, was getting the worse of the deal even if she was paid and had a place to live – she had to put up with him slobbering over her. Well, I didn't want to consider them anymore.

"I met the loveliest girl last night," I said as I cut through my stack of pancakes. Mrs. Chastain was undeniably a good cook; the pancakes were light and fluffy and soaked up the melted butter and syrup – food fit for the gods.

"Oh, really," my father said, He put down his coffee cup and waited while I chewed.

"Yes. Myra Rivers."

"Oh, Myra!" He smiled. "Yes, so pretty with her blonde hair and blue eyes. Her father and I are friends – known each other for years. He owns 25 acres and leases them out to a homesteader and takes a part of the profits. I'm glad you've met some fine people."

"I promised I'd sit with her at church – share the hymnal." I am ashamed to say that I enjoyed toying with my father. Here he was, excited that I may find a girl to eventually marry, a girl from a family of standing and yet, I knew that would never happen. I would never do to someone what Mary's husband had done to her. That had been cruel of him. Mary said he didn't know what he preferred himself, but, well, he obviously hadn't met Adam. Looking at Adam and feeling that visceral reaction, Grady Mackenzie would have known.

"That's fine….fine. As soon as you're finished, we'll all leave. As you know, it's only a short walk."

"I take it Mrs. Chastain will come with us."

"What? Oh….yes. Yes." And my father went back to his food.

My father told me on the walk to church, that he and Mrs. Chastain always sat in the 3rd row – always. It wasn't too prominent but it was close enough to the front where he couldn't fall asleep. I think that was meant to be a joke but with my father – being generally humorless – it was hard to know.

"Doesn't the preacher instill the fear of God? I would think the idea of eternal damnation alone would keep you alert, Father. But he probably aims his speech at fornicators."

"You're becoming a bit impertinent, young man," he said sternly. "I am your father and you will keep your cynicism to yourself. You've been around Adam Cartwright too much and picked up his ways - he's always making sardonic remarks meant to be funny. Not an admirable trait. Ben should have slapped it out of him early on."

My father stepped up his pace self-importantly, and Mrs. Chastain looked across him at me, raising her brows cautioning me. If she was aware my father was such a pompous ass, how could she allow him on top if her? I would never understand women.

I found Myra – or she found me. I stood in the back of the church as other denizens filed past me to the various pews. I was searching for Adam. And with him, more than likely, Mary. But I couldn't find Adam although the other three Cartwrights sat in front. Prominent citizens in a prominent place, but Joe kept looking about, for young ladies, I'm sure. Our eyes met and Joe nodded, then moved on. But Myra saw me and stood up, smiling and waved me over.

"Oh, Virgil," she said, "I saved you a place." She reached out for me as I made my way down the small space. "This is my father, Mr. Rivers."

"Hello. Sir. Nice to meet you," We shook hands and I sat and he blathered about knowing my father and how happy he was that Myra had finally met a nice young man who had a good future ahead of him. I smiled and commented with whatever seemed appropriate. And then I saw Adam and Mary move into the aisle in front and Mary had her arm firmly through his, even clasping it with her other hand as if she feared he was going to escape.

Adam smiled, said hello to us all and Mary graciously nodded and said good morning and then they sat. And under the pretense of straightening her dress jacket, glanced back at me. And grinned.