A Tale of Woe

"There's no record of her birth that we could find – it was in Russia, after all, and…" Adam let his voice die out; he was answering questions that had yet to be asked. He shifted in his chair; he was behaving like a goddamn fool, letting his emotions run his actions. Marina sat calmly beside him in Hiram Wood's office – or at least she gave the appearance of calm. Sheriff Coffee stood against the wall, and the Waverly's both sat beside him in stiff-backed chairs. Hiram's clerk had to bring in the extra chairs and the office was crowded.

"I don't think her age has anything to do with it. Nevada and many other states haven't examined the age of consent laws for decades and may not get to it for years – there are so many new laws that need revising or a second look now that the war's…" Hiram looked up. "In Nevada, she could be 12 and your marriage would be legal. Some states it's as low as 8 or 10 years. But these papers as far as how they're worded and such, seem iron-clad."

Mrs. Waverly stood up triumphantly. "It's as I said. Sheriff, take her into custody until we can transport her back to Pennsylvania. Lock her up in your jail." She smiled at Marina. "I'll teach you to pull something like this again."

Swiftly, Adam stood up and moved toward Mrs. Waverly. She backed up, almost falling over her chair.

"If you were a man, I'd break your spiteful neck but as it is, I..."

Sheriff Coffee stepped between them and Adam stopped himself; he knew that he would be breaking the law by threatening to harm her. He settled himself while Mr. Waverly said nothing, only dropped his head while his wife, flustered and upset, tried to compose herself.

Adam, adjusted his jacket and sat back down. He felt Marina's small, gloved hand on top of his and their eyes met. He clasped her hand in his. Adam sighed.

"Now I said the contract 'seemed' ironclad but I haven't had the time to examine it as close as I like would like. These three codicils that are tacked on, I'm not sure of them.

Adam leaned forward, releasing Marina's hand. "Let me ask you about this, Hiram. Neither of Marina's parents read Russian, so much as English. They couldn't have possibly known what they were signing."

"The sea captain," Mrs. Waverly started until Adam turned to look at her. "I have a right to speak. We have a great deal of money invested in this child. After her…after she gave birth to her bastard, she was ill. We had the best doctors for her and they cost a pretty penny. And we paid to have the dead infant buried. We treated her well and this is how she repays us – by running away for the second time."

"You treated her well?" Adam spat out. "Who put the scars on her back? Answer that one."

"She was stubborn – ran away as a girl – no more than 10. Her spirit had to be broken; she had to be kept safe and other than locking her up at night, it was the only way to make certain she didn't leave again. That there are scars…it's just the type of skin she has."

Adan turned back to Hiram. "As I said, her parents couldn't have understood all this legal language. They were desperate to give their only child a better life and if they were told a bogus story of what would happen to her in America, they would have believed it and signed.

"And Marina, she was only a child, a minor, when she signed that paper, only 7 years old and it's practically illegible. With adults terrorizing her, she would have signed. And besides all that, she couldn't read. She still can't read well since she was never sent to school in Pennsylvania.

Hiram cleared his throat, pulled off his spectacles and sat back. "Is what your husband says, true?"

"Of course, it is true. Do you doubt him?"

"No, but he did get the information from you." Marina shrugged. Adam realized that even if he said the sky was red, Marina would back him, no matter what.

"Well," Hiram said, "I'll prepare a brief for the judge on those grounds. As for arresting Mrs. Carwtright, what do you think, Sheriff?"

"Haven't heard yet from the judge who issued the warrant but I see no reason why Mrs. Cartwright can't be turned over to her husband's custody. If she's kept on the Ponderosa... why, Adam. Come over to the office and I'll deputize you. That way you can legally have her in custody.

Mrs. Waverly flew into a rage. She cried that they were all in collusion to keep Marina out of jail and in Nevada. Had they no respect for the law? Her property, Marina, should be given into their custody if Sheriff Coffee refused to arrest her. She wasn't yet 18 and until then, they should be able to handle her, to discipline her any way they chose!

Mr. Waverly attempted to calm his wife but she threw off his hand. "You think you're so clever, don't you, Marina, finding yourself a wealthy husband. But just you wait; I'll get you my little beauty and when I do, you won't be so lovely after." She huffed out of the lawyer's office, her chin thrust up, and Mr. Waverly meekly followed.

The afternoon was beautiful, the air crisp with the promise of fall, the sky blue with scuffs of white clouds and the trees seemed full of birds. Adam held the reins, the tin deputy badge on his red shirt, hidden by his jacket.

Marina hadn't spoken since they had left Hiram's office. Adam would glance at her profile under the black bonnet. Then breaking the silence, she spoke.

"When I was a child, in my village, there was a story teller. For what you would say is a penny, a child or even an adult, could sit and listen to his stories. Every market day, after I helped my father hitch up our small wagon, we would ride into the village. My mother would give me the coin to go listen to the stories while she shopped. Many parents did so and there was always a group of children sitting and listening. Many times, my mother would call me, the filled string bags hanging from her arm, and I would cry because the story was not yet finished. I would beg to stay but she would say, 'The fish should rot while you listen to a silly story? Stories are just that, stories.' She would tell me, 'Don't confuse stories with life. And there will be another day and he will tell the story again. And a new one as well'."

She turned to Adam. "There was one story I liked more than others. The name, I do not remember. But the old witch, the evil witch, at the end she was stripped naked and sealed in a barrel that had nails driven through the sides – big, sharp nails – and then rolled down a hill. That was her punishment. It always gave me great satisfaction to hear. But then I was a child."

Adam said nothing.

"Now," she added, "it seems not a cruel enough end." Marina turned and gazed at the passing scenery. But Adam was certain he had seen a small smile on her lovely face. He didn't know this woman who shared the bed and her body with him and perhaps Boris Ivanov was correct, Marina may have the soul of a Tartar and given free rein, she might very well cut the heart out of her enemy and eat it raw. Was she a woman after his own heart – not to keep safely but to rip it to shreds with her teeth? He had warned both his brothers of such things, told them to be cautious, and yet he had fallen in love with a mere slip of a girl who showed up one day. Inside, Adam was resigned; he would eventually discover, he supposed.

Ben met them in the yard. Adam helped Marina down and she passed silently into the house.

"I was worried. What did Hiram say?" Adam told his father about the brief to be presented to the judge. Ben dogged his son about the tin star on his shirt and suggested perhaps he avoid the responsibility of ensuring his wife would not run away. Adam handed the badge over with a remark about his playing deputy and being Marina's jailer for the next few days until the circuit judge arrived to hear the case.

That evening, Adam, an open book in his hands, watched his wife, her small, dark head bowed over her needle. She stabbed it through the worn heels of socks, making them like new again, actually, even stronger than before. He knew she must be in turmoil but Marina looked as serene as the Madonna. He longed to ask her about the child she bore and later buried, but he knew she would only tell him when she was ready and not before. And that night as she lay in his arms and he kissed her fragrant hair, he asked.

"The child you had, tell me." He waited, feeling his heart pound in his chest. Did she love the boy who fathered the child? He had to know.

"It was born early – too early, and died. I was ill for many days and hoped to die myself. I wished for the angels to come for me but they didn't and I was well again and put back to work as the maid, When I recovered fully enough, I was punished. That is the way with sinners."

"Why do you say you're a sinner? If you loved the boy…"

Marina laughed and it startled Adam. "It was not love as I as too young and he…. I wanted to leave my servitude and thought – stupidly, since I am a stupid girl with foolish ideas – that he loved me as he said he did. I thought he would beg his father to buy out my indebtedness since he was a banker's son. But after I told him of his child, he laughed and denied me. He had hair like golden wheat and strong shoulders; he was beautiful. I like to think he is dead, perhaps drowned at sea and eaten by the creatures, the crabs and shrimp that eat the flesh off the bones bit by bit. That is what he deserves."

"I thought the Holy Mother taught forgiveness to her worshipers." Adam said, running his fingers lightly over her bare arm. Since he knew of the pale scars on her back, the gown was no longer a necessity.

"After I know he is dead, I will forgive." Marina sighed and nestled closer within Adam's embrace. She kissed his bare chest. "Goodnight, rodnaya moya."

"Rodnaya moya? What does that mean? Or shouldn't I ask?"

Marina gave a small laugh and reached up one round arm to touch his face. "Rodnaya moya means 'my dear'."

"And what should I call you - what name of love?"

"Every time you call my name, Marishka, it is a word said with love. As long as that is in your voice, the love toward me, no other word is needed."

And she settled comfortably again against his chest and soon he heard the soft sip of her breath as she slept. But Adam couldn't sleep for many hours, just lay in the bed. And when he did sleep, he dreamed his wife had changed into a cat and lay curled up comfortably on his chest. And in his dream, he reached out and stroked her soft fur and she purred delightedly, arching her back against the weight of his palm. He was then happy because no one would know that the cat that lived on the Ponderosa was actually his wife who at night, would change into a woman and welcome him into her arms, and then, change back and stay with him. He would never lose Marina then – never.