For Want of a Brother, Part Eleven
by J. Rosemary Moss
Breakfast was an awkward affair. My shooting of Jack Clayton wasn't exactly proper table conversation, but it was damned hard for anyone to think of anything else—not with me sitting there. But at length Adam began talking of a potential business deal out in San Francisco and the rest of the Cartwrights seized on that. They spoke about it with more animation, I reckon, than they would have at any other time.
There was another serious conversation after breakfast—and this time I was part of it. Adam had already told Mr. Cartwright and Hoss about Rosalind last night. And I had told Joe about her, so we all knew the story. We sat down in the great room and started discussing my legal options.
I can't say for certain what Mr. Cartwright thought of me. I don't think he would ever have offered to help me escape, as Adam had. And I wondered again if Adam had mentioned that offer to his Pa.
But one thing was clear: Mr. Cartwright was appalled by the way Jack Clayton had treated my sister. And, as the father of a hot-headed son, I think he was hoping that I wouldn't hang for my crime.
I don't think Hoss wanted me to hang either, but only Joe really understood what I had done. Somehow, I think, he could picture himself doing the same—or at least coming close—if it had been his sister.
The conversation was mostly about finding a lawyer for me. Joe had little to add to that, so he went out to see to the hands and to assign what work could be done, weather providing. Hoss kept wondering over to the window, checking on the sky. But Mr. Cartwright and Adam discussed every defense lawyer they had ever met.
When they reached a decision they could both agree on—some San Francisco big shot—I just went along with it. I didn't know any lawyers myself, so I would just have to trust their judgment. And I would have to accept their charity, for I knew that I couldn't afford the kind of defense mastermind they wanted for me. I had known that all along, but I hadn't given it much thought before now.
When the conversation was finished, I walked over to Adam. He was standing behind his Pa's desk, looking over a ledger.
"I'm not sure—I'm not sure your Pa will appreciate spending the Ponderosa's money on the likes of me," I whispered as I stepped up beside him.
"He's willing to spend it, considering the circumstances," he said. "You've impressed him somewhat by your decision to turn yourself in. And it doesn't matter anyway," Adam continued with a shake of his head. "It'll be mostly my money."
"I have some saved—"
But he stopped me from saying anything more. "I know," he said as he placed an arm around my shoulders. "But you have to keep that aside for Celia, in case the worst comes to worst."
I forced myself to crack a smile at that. "And how are you going to feel about all that money you wasted if they go and hang me anyway?"
He grinned back and tousled my hair. "You're worth wasting the money on," he assured me.
Just then Hoss announced that he was going to make a try for Virginia City, providing the roads were in decent enough condition. The sky looked ominous, he said, but nothing was happening yet. It might just clear up. And he could send a wire to the lawyer while he was there.
Adam agreed. He wanted Sheriff Coffee here as quickly as possible. The sooner I turned myself in, he figured, the better.
Joe came back in after Hoss left and stayed down in the great room with me, along with Mr. Cartwright and Adam. Once again, I suspected that Ben Cartwright wanted as many eyes on me as he could spare.
Adam decided to teach me how to play chess. I knew the basic moves of the pieces, but I didn't know the strategy. So we sat down by the fire and talked about openings, middles, and end-games. I enjoyed that—it was a pity I'd never really learned the game before. With some practice I might be able to provide Adam with reasonable competition.
It began to snow again late in the afternoon, before Hoss got back. He'd had enough time to make it into Virginia City, but we weren't sure if he would make it back today.
But we needn't have worried. He got back right before sundown—not on his horse, but in a Brougham carriage. That ain't the hardiest of carriages and it wasn't the one I would have chosen for rough weather. But it handles nice, given that the forewheels are capable of sharp turns. And it takes only one horse to drive it, so I could understand the choice.
I saw it from the window, where I was standing behind Adam and Little Joe. Poor Hoss was sitting out in the box seat, shivering with the driver. I couldn't see who was inside, but a Brougham will generally fit two in relative comfort.
Mr. Cartwright went outside to greet Hoss and whoever else was with him. Joe, Adam and I stayed inside, riveted to the window.
"Who do we know that drives a Brougham?" Joe asked his older brother.
Adam's voice was tight as he answered. "Only one person I can think of," he said.
I stared at the carriage as Sheriff Coffee climbed out of it, followed by a man I'd never seen before. He was a little older than me—I'd guess that he was in his mid-twenties. And he was a good looking fellow from what I could see of him. He walked with a cane, though. That wasn't uncommon, but it seemed like an affectation in someone his age.
Adam swore under his breath. At that same moment, I realized that the cane wasn't for show. The fellow was using it to 'feel' the ground in front of him.
I swallowed hard and turned my head toward Adam. "Who is that?" I demanded. But I had a feeling I already knew the answer.
He sighed. "That's Drew," he said. "That's Jack Clayton's little brother."