Chapter 11
At noon the next day, Ben rode to Virginia City with Adam and Joe while Hoss stayed at home to keep an eye on things at the ranch. Joe had a lunch engagement with Maisy and Ben was pleased to see his youngest son sticking to one girl for more than a couple of weeks. The young man seemed genuinely interested in the pretty redhead and even if their current enchantment with one another didn't move on to anything more serious, at least they were enjoying each other's company for the moment.
Ben's motivation for visiting town was also mostly of a social nature, but he did have a sort of informal business meeting at the International House with a client. He was meeting with one of the men who had a share in the newly established mining company on the Comstock and he suspected that they might be interested in a new business deal now that the current lumber contract he had with them was almost fulfilled. The Cartwright logging operation was running extremely effectively at the moment—the fact that they'd delivered practically all the timber shipments so many days ahead of the deadline was proof of that. Ben couldn't be happier with the results and he'd made sure that Adam and Hoss knew it when they'd delivered their report yesterday.
During the ride to town, it was mostly Joe and Ben doing the talking, but while the father's attention was on his youngest, he was equally aware of his other son riding next to him. It was a unique ability which had come in handy more than a few times over the years and Ben had mastered it so well that even his perceptive oldest boy didn't notice it.
At least Adam looked better now than when he and Hoss had come home the previous day. The bath and quiet evening had done him some good and Ben fervently hoped that he'd gotten some decent rest during the night, although with Adam, it was never easy to tell.
As they came into Virginia City, most folks would probably say that he looked like his usual self, but the people who knew him well, like his family and a few close friends, would be able to detect the weariness in his features and the effort it was taking him to maintain his straight posture. It was noticeable, however, that the deeper they got into town, the more he seemed to perk up and the reason why was obvious to his father.
Their first stop was the bank since Ben wanted to get the financial matters over with first. Having no desire to join in on that particular venture, Joe went off to see Maisy after arranging to meet up with his family later.
Ben ended up being the only one entering the bank because Adam insisted on waiting outside. Just before he stepped through the bank's open doors, Ben glanced back and noticed that his eldest was still mounted on Sport, staring at some point down the street, or more precisely, in the direction of Paul's house.
The bank was fairly crowded—it was probably the busiest time he could have picked to go in—and Ben spent quite a while queuing up. As he stood there, awaiting his turn, he did think to himself that he might just find his oldest boy gone by the time he got outside again. He could just imagine Adam getting tired of waiting and riding to the doctor's house alone.
Fifteen minutes later, he finally made it to the counter and after taking care of business, Ben was on his way out of the bank when he ran into deputy Andrew. The two had a brief talk and when Ben asked the younger man about Roy Coffee, he was delighted when Andrew told him that the sheriff was in fact visiting their mutual doctor friend. Wishing the deputy a good day, he pushed past all the people in the cramped room and went back outside. A little surprising, perhaps—Adam was still there, shifting uncomfortably in the saddle, and still looking down the street.
"Well, what do you know," Ben said, walking to the hitching rail. "Roy is over at Paul's at the moment."
"Mmm, no kiddin' . . ."
"No, Andrew told me, I ran into him just before."
"Mmm, interesting. Can we go now?"
Adam wasn't even looking at him and Ben hid a smile as he stopped by his horse.
"Yes, I guess so. Unless, is there anywhere else we need to stop by? Or should we just ride straight to Paul's . . .?"
"Just straight to Paul's, Pa."
Ben concentrated hard on untying Buck's reins—it was the only way he could keep himself from laughing. He went around to Buck's side and had one foot in the stirrup when he caught Adam's eye. The young man stared at him with a look that clearly stated that he thought his father was mounting his horse like an old woman. Once comfortably seated in the saddle, Ben made a swooping hand gesture for Adam to go first, and at that point he didn't even bother to contain his amusement at the childlike impatience his grown son was exuding.
Soon after, father and son dismounted outside the doctor's house and tied their horses to the hitching post out front. Clearly, the speed with which Ben climbed the stairs was insufficient and Adam went ahead and had already knocked on the door when Ben came up beside him. The door opened, and Paul's lively smile welcomed them.
"Well, good day, gentlemen!"
"Hello Paul, I wanted to give you that recipe book you asked about from Hop Sing."
Ben held the book out and Paul took it, his hand gliding across the worn cover.
"Thank you, Ben. I was really starting to run out of inspiration." The doctor stepped to the side in the doorway, gesturing for them to come inside. "Come in, Roy and I were just having coffee."
They came into the foyer and Adam, who'd only gotten out a mumbled "Hi Paul", glanced searchingly around, his hat in his hands. Paul led the way into the sitting room and the dark Cartwright looked instantly deflated when he saw that Roy was the room's only occupant. While the sheriff greeted his friends enthusiastically, Paul's smile slowly faded when he studied Adam and noticed his quiet countenance. The others sensed it too and Ben regarded his son fondly as Adam stood there—awkward and uncertain—his face slightly turned down while he looked up at the doctor. The moment realization hit Paul was evident because he threw his hands up in the air in a visual display of surrender.
"Oh, relax lad, she's in the kitchen!"
The charismatic, dimpled grin that broke out on Adam's face reminded the three older men just why he was so popular with the town's female population—in case they'd forgotten. He politely excused himself and backed out of the room.
"Lord . . ." Paul walked over to his burgundy chair and slid down into it. "I never thought I would be exposed to this kind of stress in my old age."
Ben and Roy aimed smiles at each other and sat down on the settee opposite their friend.
"Come on, Paul, as a doctor you must be used to stressful situations."
"Ha! Give me broken bones, cuts and bullet wounds. This is far beyond my area of expertise."
xXXx
Adam was halfway down the hall when he picked up the faint fragrance of her entrancing perfume. Pausing for a moment, he closed his eyes, savoring it, then he followed the invisible trail to the kitchen. The sight that met him as he stood in the doorway, brought a wave of warmth flooding through him and a strange sense of peace seemed to settle in every inch of his body. It was as if the simple sight of her finally allowed him to draw in a proper breath again. She had on the same pale pink dress with the white flowers as she'd worn at the county fair and she was standing on her tip toes, reaching up towards a shelf above her. He could see the side of her face, the way her brow was lined in concentration, her lips drawn up in a small pucker. The memory of the kiss they'd shared at Silver Creek returned with a force—like a ray of light cutting through the darkness that had been enveloping his mind. He knew that he should make his presence known before she saw him watching her. Besides, she was never going to reach that top shelf by herself.
"Would you like some help with that?"
She startled, fell back onto the heels of her shoes and faced him.
"Adam! I didn't know you were here . . ."
With perfect aim, he tossed his hat onto the kitchen table and strolled towards her while she eyed him with surprised joy, her white teeth flashing between her upturned lips.
"This one?" he asked with a lopsided smile, easily stretching his arm up to take hold of a cast-iron skillet.
"Yes, thank you."
She took the pan and gave him an inquisitive look.
"What brings you here?"
"Well, my father wanted to come by and give Paul one of Hop Sing's recipe books."
"Oh." Her gaze dropped. "Right . . ."
"And I came by to see you."
There was mischief in his eyes, but his voice was sincere. She reined in her growing smile and walked straight past him, over to the worktable by the window where she set down the skillet.
"Is that so?"
The words were casually tossed over her shoulder and Adam followed after her, keeping his grin in check.
"Yes, that's so." He leaned close, one arm resting on the tabletop. "Are you . . . pleased that we stopped by?"
"Why, yes, Adam. I am sure that Uncle Paul will really enjoy trying out some new recipes."
Her southern drawl dripped with sweet innocence and she spared him a courteous glance before grabbing a bowl which was covered with a dishtowel. He watched her patiently, knowing that she was teasing him and that he deserved it a little. When she'd inspected the contents of the bowl and neatly folded the dishtowel beside some other bags and jars on the table, she turned to him, apparently curious about his lack of comeback. He didn't fill out the moment with talk, he simply reached out his hand and gently took hold of hers. It was beyond his comprehension how being close to her and tracing her small, silky fingers just made his existence better somehow.
"You have been working hard?"
Looking up from her hand, he saw the concerned note he'd heard in the question reflected openly on her face. How did she do that? How could she know? And why was it, that the look she was giving him now made him want to pour out his troubles and let her hear all of it—let her see the things he didn't dare show anyone else? This sudden want to share was unfamiliar to him and frankly, disconcerting.
"I've just been working at our lumber camp with Hoss. I guess it can be a bit taxing at times," he said, going for nonchalance. "We've almost finished our contract now though, no problems."
"An operation like that must be quite stressful when there are deadlines to be met."
"Yes, well . . . we made good time . . ." He trailed off, but she continued to watch him, and he suddenly felt very exposed. Clearing his throat, he let go of her hand, so he could motion at the items on the worktable.
"So, what are you making?"
Something tightened in his chest when he felt her stroke his forearm once, softly, in a simple gesture of understanding. He didn't know how it was even possible that she understood, but it seemed that she did.
Then she lifted a bag and sprinkled a light dusting of flour out onto the table.
"I have been baking all morning, there's an apple pie and a coffee cake over there." She pointed past Adam where the two items stood on top of a sideboard. "This afternoon, I am going to take them over to Sally Piper's restaurant. I asked Mrs. Piper if she perhaps had a job for me there, and she told me to bring something homemade for her to try before she decided whether or not to hire me."
"I thought you were working as a nurse for Paul?" Adam asked as he admired the delicious looking pie and cake.
"Yes, and I would still help Uncle Paul as a nurse when he needs it. If it fits with Mrs. Piper, of course. But I felt that I needed to do something more to earn my place here. And besides, I am not formally trained as a nurse, as you know."
She tipped the bowl over and a lump of dough rolled out onto the powdered surface.
"Anyway, I suppose it all depends on whether Mrs. Piper likes my baking or not."
He inclined his head towards the pie and cake. "I can tell just by looking at those two, that you've got the job."
"You know, Adam Cartwright," she said, her arched eyebrows bouncing on the syllables of his name, "I think you'd compliment me, regardless."
Looking her up and down, he let a faint dimple surface.
"Is that so?"
"Yes," she smiled. "That's so."
She put the dough to the side as she began parting and coring some red apples and explained to him that the last pie she was making, was simply because there was a little dough and some apples left over. Her nimble fingers moved with speed and confidence and he noted the systematic way the flour, sugar and butter were organized on the work-surface.
Paul was probably a very chaotic person to have with her in the kitchen, but Adam doubted that she could get beyond fondly exasperated with her lovable uncle. As a matter of fact, he couldn't picture her getting annoyed, let alone angry, with anyone. They talked for a while as she worked, but then she fell silent, focusing on cutting some thinner apple slices, which Adam assumed would be some kind of decoration for the pie. As the minutes ticked by, a thought slowly sank in. He could stay like this for hours. Just watching her without talking. Taking in her presence.
Hard as he tried, he couldn't help it that his gaze wandered to the low, ruffled neckline of her dress. It really wasn't deliberate when he caught himself trying to imagine what lay beneath the pink material. Over the last four years, he'd barely spared his manly urges a thought, but after meeting Madeline—they'd been thoroughly reignited. When his heart-rate skipped up a few beats, he was forced to make a conscious effort to calm himself down.
His attention was suddenly diverted when she brought a hand up to the side of her face. He recognized the movement she was about to make, but she stopped herself just in time, clearly realizing that her fingers were covered in flour and sweet apple juice. She continued slicing the final apple and Adam smiled when she did a tiny head-shake to get the teasing, brown curl away from her cheek. A minute passed, during which she instinctively repeated the motion two more times, nearly smearing her hair and face, but the persistent curl kept falling back down after being shaken away. Her cuteness was utterly unfathomable.
When she finished the last apple, she must have felt his gaze out of the corner of her eye and she turned towards him, obviously surprised by the amused, yet intense way he was watching her.
She was about to speak, but before she could say anything, he reached up and carefully stroked the smooth lock back, settling it behind her ear. Unable to resist the temptation, he brought his hand back to her cheek, lightly brushing the pad of his thumb across the blooming blush as she stared at him, her pupils dilated.
". . . Adam?"
"Yes?"
"Would you . . . do something for me?"
"Anything, Madeline."
"Anything?"
"Yes. You name it."
"All right. I'd like you to bake this pie with me."
". . . Uh, what?"
Stupefied by her request, his arm dropped down and he wasn't sure whether to laugh or be worried.
"I'd like you to bake this apple pie with me," she repeated.
Her eyes were intent, not leaving his for an instant and her head tilted fractionally to the side. A deep rumble rose up through his chest, then his throat and an astounded laughter suddenly broke free.
"Madeline, I can't bake!"
The corners of her mouth quirked up a little, but her gaze didn't waver.
"And how do you know? Have you ever tried?"
"I, well no, I . . . I haven't but—"
"Good then, no time like the present!"
She suddenly stepped around him and disappeared while he just stood there, completely speechless at the surprising turn of events. Now that his laughter had died rather abruptly, he turned to the second of his two initial reactions—worry. He twisted around, his mouth already open and ready to protest as she came back towards him, carrying a white apron in her hands.
"Madeline, really, I'm quite the disaster in a kitchen, ask anyone in my family . . . even Paul or Roy."
"Mr. Cartwright, I do believe you are nervous."
She stopped in front of him, the humor dancing like little sparkles in her eyes.
"I will guide you through it. It really is quite easy once you get the hang of it. And very satisfying to eat something you have baked yourself." Her face fell a little and she folded her arms around her middle, hugging the apron to her front. "Unless, of course, you are too busy . . ."
Whatever hold this woman had on him, he was totally powerless against it and all his usually quick-thinking brain could come up with, was that he really wished he was that white apron. His reluctant expression melted into one of silent acceptance and Madeline's eyes brightened again.
"Don't worry, I won't let you burn it."
"Well. That's a comfort."
"Here you are."
She held the apron out towards him, but a sudden smirk spread across his lips. He turned around and standing with his back to her, he stretched his arms out to the sides, waiting patiently. A soft laugh came from somewhere behind him, then he looked down and saw her hands come into sight at both sides of him. She reached the white fabric around him and feeling the light pressure against his back made a tingle run down his spine. Regrettably, it was over far too soon as she tied the two strings of the apron around his waist and appeared next to him.
"Well, Sir, are you ready?"
"I guess there's no turning back now . . ."
He rinsed his hands by the water pump while she got the butter ready to grease the skillet. When she handed him a wooden rolling pin, he was thankful for the fact that his men and colleagues in the army couldn't see him now.
xXXx
In the sitting room, the three old friends had been enjoying catching up with each other and Ben gulped down the last of his coffee and leaned back on the settee next to Roy.
"Ahh. I should get going. I guess I ought to try and pry that boy of mine away from your lovely niece, Paul."
The doctor scoffed into his coffee cup, nearly spilling the hot liquid all over his lap and the wing-back chair.
"Good luck! Didn't you see his expression before he disappeared? I wouldn't be surprised if he's run off with her through the back door."
"But doc, you gotta admit—those two make one fine looking couple," Roy broke in, stroking his grey mustache with his index finger. "And the change in Adam! I ain't ever seen him so caught up in a girl before. Last week at dinner, Joe and I could barely keep it together, watching him acting all skittish around her."
The corners of Ben's eyes creased, and he murmured in agreement.
"Yes, he is certainly smitten with her."
"How's he been holding up?" Paul asked in his doctor tone, his face inexpressive.
"Well . . ." Ben sighed, rubbing at the vertical lines embedded in his forehead. "He is improving, but some days are better than others. He and Hoss spent some time at the logging camp this week. When they got back yesterday, he was a lot worse off than when they left. He was quiet and withdrawn the whole evening. Sometimes, it's as if he goes to this dark place and I just don't know how to reach him. I worry that . . . well, that someday, he might not come back to us from that place." Ben halted, taking in the words that he hadn't dared say out loud for such a long time. "I'm his father and I don't know how to help him. He won't talk about it, you both know how he was before the war . . . and now it's even worse."
When Ben raised his head, he could clearly read the genuine sympathy and understanding in his two friends' faces. He hadn't realized how much he'd needed to give tongue to his own concerns and frustrations. Lately, most of his energy had been spent on being there for Adam in whatever way he was allowed and when that task was completed, he had two other sons whose need for him to be strong and reliable came before any of his own. He didn't want Hoss or Joe to see his own fear for their brother and the doubts he had about the progress that was being made. And what he really didn't want, was for Adam to see those things.
The support and care emanating from his two friends seemed to give him a fresh burst of strength he'd sorely needed. He wasn't alone.
"I'll admit that part of the reason why I wanted to stop by here today was because of Adam. I hoped that a visit with Madeline would lift his spirits."
Paul steepled his fingers under his chin and Ben noticed the doctor's lack of surprise.
"You knew?"
"Hmm? Oh, please, Ben. It's the only reason why I haven't been out in that kitchen chaperoning for the last half an hour." Paul rested his chin on his knuckles. "He didn't look well when he first came in."
Roy spoke, adding his own insight. "Yep, noticed it too. I reckon you're doing everything you can, Ben. Adam always was a hard one to figger. Hardheaded too, like his Pa. But he'll get there, I believe that."
"Thanks, Roy. But as for the hardheaded part—he didn't get that from me. At least not all of it."
Ben rose from the settee with a smile, feeling like a heavy weight had lifted inside him. "Right, now we do really need to get going. We're meeting with our client on this last big timber deal. I think he might be interested in continuing our business."
Paul and Roy stood up too and the doctor took the tray with the empty coffee cups and went first out into the hall. Roy clapped Ben on the back and made his customary joke about how the rancher had started the Ponderosa as a cattle business and was now making an equal or even greater amount of money on the lumber trade, which Adam had encouraged his father to invest in many years ago. When they got to the kitchen doorway, their cheerful voices cut off abruptly. They all froze, squashed beside each other. Ben's pupils suddenly seemed tiny against the whites of his eyes and Paul's mouth fell open while Roy fumbled in search of the glasses in his shirt pocket.
"There. It's important that you press the pastry down firmly but carefully everywhere . . . to make the crust even all around, you see."
"Like this?"
"Yes, that is perfect."
The three men stared silently at the spectacle in the kitchen. Adam Cartwright, renowned for his tough, cool exterior, now stood before them with a white apron tied around his waist in an elegant bow—breaking up his habitual dark look. He was frowning, his head bent, completely engrossed in carefully pressing dough into a baking skillet. It was Paul who first regained the use of his voice.
"Adam, we should go into my office for a spell. I think you may be in dire need of my assistance."
At the sound of Paul's words, Adam and Madeline turned around at the same time. The comical looks on the three men's faces very nearly had Madeline giggling heartedly and she bit her lip as she glanced sideways.
Adam, for his part, remained completely straight-faced as he pulled back his shoulders and puffed out his chest which, unbeknownst to him, made him look even more hilarious. It turned out to be more than the doctor and sheriff could take and they broke down laughing.
"Pa." Adam acknowledged, ignoring the other two. He motioned to the skillet with a flour-covered hand. "We were just . . . uh . . . well . . . baking a pie."
"Yes, son. I see that . . ."
Paul and Roy were still in the throes of their laughing fit, gasping for breath, and clinging to each other while trying to keep the shaking coffee tray from dropping to the floor.
"Oh, shush you two, don't tease him now!" Madeline's soft-spoken rebuke seemed to have the opposite effect of its intent and instead breathed new life into their state of hysterics.
Ben walked fully into the kitchen and placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Madeline, dear. Have you been informed of Adam's . . . ah, hazardous cooking habits?" he asked cautiously.
That question prompted an eye roll from Adam and he turned back to his pie, lightly pressing down the smooth pastry.
"Yes, Ben, I assure you, I have been duly warned." Madeline smiled at him. "And so far, the kitchen is still in one piece, as you see."
Ben responded with a skeptical dip of his head.
"Very well then." He turned back to Paul and Roy who were now both teary-eyed and had a pale red color to their faces. "It looks like I'll be going to that business meeting alone then."
Adam quickly spun around, only just remembering the meeting, but Ben held up his hand.
"Don't worry yourself, son. I'm fairly sure I can handle it by myself." His thick eyebrows lowered, and a gleam appeared in his deep brown orbs. "Now, you just have fun and I'll be back to pick you up later when you've finished your little project."
There was a loud snort from the doorway behind him, which was immediately silenced when his son leveled a fierce glower past him and onto whichever one of their two friends had uttered the sound.
Adam then shifted his attention back to Ben, his expression tight.
"I suggest you get going then, Pa. You wouldn't want to be late."
Ben faced Madeline for a moment, and while her eyes were gently urging him to refrain from teasing his son anymore, the smile she was giving him was so bright and happy that he felt almost grateful to her because it truly was a beautiful sight.
He dropped his head with a subtle grin. "You'll see me out, Paul?"
"Certainly, Ben."
"I reckon I should get going to," Roy said, "I better see what my deputy is getting' up to."
Paul placed the coffee tray on a sideboard and Roy nodded in goodbye at Madeline. When the sheriff turned to do the same for Adam, the entertaining sight of the younger man's attire got the better of him again.
"Oh, just get outta here, will you?!"
It wasn't quite a yell, but Adam's tone made the three men flee from the kitchen and down the hall, their shoulders shaking all the way to the foyer.
xXXx
Ben and Roy said their goodbyes to Paul and when Ben mounted his horse, he and the sheriff also parted ways. The Cartwright headed straight to the International House on C street and was lucky to find a spot for Buck outside of the big hotel. When he walked into the building's restaurant, he surveyed the room but saw no one around who could be his client. Assuming that the man had been delayed, Ben explained to a waiter that he was expecting someone to arrive shortly. He was shown to a table in the middle of the room and ordered himself a coffee while he waited.
Barely two minutes had gone by before Ben was wishing he'd been seated somewhere else. The reason was, that the table obliquely ahead of him was occupied by a group of women—all of whom were members of the Women's Social Club. Their shrilly voices reminded him of cutlery grating on fine china and when a shrieky laughter rang out through the room, he realized that the lady underneath the ghastly bird's nest of a hat was Mrs. Aida Stewart. He sank lower in his chair and contemplated what type of future business proposition might be presented to him when his client arrived. Although he tried to shut out the women's talk, he couldn't help but overhear a few sentences and he sat up straighter as he started listening in on their conversation.
"Frankly, I am of the opinion that she should have been dismissed from our meeting at once!"
"I agree. After all, she cannot rightfully claim to be a Virginia City citizen, yet she acts like she has been part of our community for years!"
"I hear that she went to see Sally Piper about a job too. Now, what could a southern snob know about working in a restaurant? There are no slaves for her to order about now."
"And the way she dresses just in her everyday wear! Such an obvious attempt to beguile the menfolk. I am glad I shall never visit whatever rebel state she comes from if that is the women's fashion."
"Doctor Martin is such a respectable man—just think of the burden she has brought on him. Having a spinster like her living under his roof . . . and there she is, working at his practice and she isn't even a qualified nurse! Why, she admitted that to me herself!"
Ben's fists clenched as they lay on top of the tablecloth and his lips drew inward, making his mouth into a thin line. The spiteful conversation continued spewing between the ladies and each word hit him like a small stab in the heart. He felt pain, not only for the endearing young woman he had come to know, but also for his old friend who would be extremely upset if he heard this hateful talk. He struggled to keep his temper in check, but it was now impossible to ignore what was going on right in front of him. When the waiter came over with his coffee, he drew in a breath and forced out a polite "thank you". The waiter's approach had registered with some of the ladies and when Ben spoke quietly, Aida Stewart turned around in her seat. He was suddenly confronted with her hawkish face; the teeth tinged yellow from her vast tea consumption, the jowls slackened by her gossiping ways.
"Why, Ben Cartwright! We hadn't even realized you were sitting there all by yourself. Please, join us!"
Ben's voice was low and measured as he eyed her with a mixture of politeness and disdain.
"I'm afraid I must decline your invitation, Mrs. Stewart."
"Oh . . . really?" she said, her eyes narrowing. "You are expecting someone?"
"As a matter of fact, I am. But even if I wasn't, my answer would still be the same. You see, I don't want to take part in your conversation"
Her mouth dropped open in outrage, but he continued, his voice rising higher as he addressed the entire table.
"I happen to be of the opinion that Miss Delaney's presence here in Virginia City is both refreshing and most welcome and I have no interest in hearing such foul and unjust talk aimed at a young woman who has done absolutely nothing to deserve it. So, I ask you all to keep your voices down or better yet—change the subject of your discussion."
The ladies were too shocked to give any response, several of them ducking their heads in embarrassment as the background chatter of the room had quieted. Ben calmly sipped his coffee, ignoring the eyes on him from all corners of the restaurant and he was very relieved that Adam hadn't accompanied him after all.
"Uhm, Mr. Cartwright? I apologize for my delay . . ."
Ben looked up at the suit-clad man who'd appeared beside the table, and he noted the man's slightly reddened cheeks. Yep, he'd no doubt heard every bit of the outburst.
"That's quite all right, Mr. Hill." Ben shook his hand. "Won't you sit down?"
The man took the chair opposite Ben and there was an awkward pause.
"Mr. Hill, I hope our deal has been satisfactory to—"
"One moment, Mr. Cartwright. Before we turn to business, I would like to offer you my deepest respect and congratulations."
"I . . . whatever for?"
"For silencing six women with two sentences." Mr. Hill leaned across the table, offering a knowing expression. "I live with four daughters and a wife, Sir."
When the words registered with him, Ben chuckled deeply, instantly relaxing with the witty man opposite him.
"Well, I can't claim to know about your predicament, but I do know that my own three boys were no picnic."
The two men delved into a pleasant conversation and Ben didn't even notice when Mrs. Aida Stewart and the other ladies left the restaurant. It wasn't until thirty minutes later that he saw their table had been occupied by another party.
xXXx
Ben walked out of the International house an hour after he'd stepped inside—with a very good deal secured. It meant two more timber contracts for the Cartwrights and he was more than satisfied with the price agreement that had been reached between him and Mr. Hill. However, he couldn't forget what had happened earlier and the incident with the gossiping women was putting a severe damper on his good mood. On his way back to Paul's house, he rode past the Bucket of Blood and spotted his youngest son outside. Joe had stopped off there, hoping to fit in a little beer before meeting his family, but he quickly mounted Cochise and went to join his father.
After having had a great afternoon, Joe was eager to talk about his lunch with Maisy, but Ben was preoccupied, and the young man sensed it.
"Joe," Ben said after his boy had given up on the one-sided conversation. "Didn't you say something about Maisy inviting Madeline to the Women's Social Club?"
"Yea, Pa, she mentioned it to Madeline last Saturday at the dinner. I thought it was really nice of her, helping Madeline to make some more friends around town."
"Yes, it was. Did Maisy say how it went?"
"No . . . I think they usually meet on Wednesdays, but she didn't say anything to me about it. Why?"
"No reason, son. I was just wondering. You know how those women can be towards newcomers and I suppose I just want Madeline to be treated well."
Joe could tell that there was something his father wasn't saying, but he didn't want to probe him about it since they were so close to doc Martin's house.
When they got to the doctor's, Paul told them to come inside and have a piece of apple pie. Even though Joe was pretty full after the big lunch he'd had, the pie was delicious, and he enjoyed it, thinking that Hoss had really drawn the short straw by staying home at the ranch. He complimented Madeline on her baking and she thanked him with a small smile, but Joe had a feeling that something very odd was going on between the others—especially with his older brother and Paul. He got the sense that his father and the doctor were sharing a joke about something he wasn't aware of, and he also caught onto the fact that Adam didn't seem to find whatever it was very funny.
If there had been any doubts in Joe's mind about how his oldest sibling felt about Madeline Delaney, they vanished completely during the ride home to the ranch. The Adam riding next to him now was completely different to the quiet and fatigued brother who'd ridden into town a few hours earlier. His demeanor was serene, disturbingly so, and it seemed almost like he was floating atop the saddle. And then there was that silly smile that kept appearing on his face every few minutes. Joe only hoped it would last the whole ride back home, so Hoss could see it too and so they could laugh, tease and rejoice in it together.
