I'm so glad everyone enjoyed the last chapter. It was a lot of fun to write. Here comes the next one. We're going to get a little more of a peek in Matthew's life and his relationship with Anne Marie (as well as bring Hoss back into the story since I feel as if he's been a little neglected lately) before I proceed with Adam and Diana, but don't worry, there will be more to come with them too. There are so many different facets to this story it's hard to address every one of them in each chapter. Besides, you know how much more slowly Adam proceeds through his romances than Joe and Hoss do. :) Anyway, enjoy!
Chapter 12
Matthew Finney lived in a tiny shack on the edge of the old mining camp in Washoe. Unfortunately, most of the land had been picked dry of valuable ore and minerals by the first miners to arrive in the territory, but Mr. Finney was convinced that a large deposit of silver still remained to be discovered. Instead of working for one of the local mines, however, he had claimed a piece of land for himself and was determined to "strike it rich" on his own. The mines guaranteed a salary, but any silver that was found within them went to the company. Salaries gradually increased as the mines themselves grew wealthier, but the silver never belonged to the miners themselves. Matthew believed in his father with relentless enthusiasm, even in the face of poverty, but with his mother expecting and barely enough money to feed their little family of three (let alone another child), he was worried. He knew the children at school looked down on him for not having enough money, but he didn't understand how they could do the same to Anne Marie for having too much. His father would give anything to live the way the Cartwrights did, and so Matthew Finney had more right to be jealous of Anne Marie than any other student in Diana Cunningham's schoolhouse.
But, interestingly enough, Matthew counted himself one of the luckiest boys in the world. Anne Marie was the most fascinating person he'd ever known, and her friendship was precious to him. When school let out for the summer holidays, she would ride over to Washoe on her very own pony, then he'd mount up and they would ride back to the Ponderosa together. When the sun shone hot and bright they would ride down to that banks of Lake Tahoe and spend the afternoon splashing in the cool water. Anne Marie always hiked her skirts up about her waist, but somehow or other her clothes still ended up soaked clean through. She never seemed to mind though; she would simply urge Polly that much faster back to the house, allowing the blistering summer breeze to billow through her dress at it rippled by, drying her frocks more speedily than the sun itself ever could. Some days, when the world was just too beautiful and alive to abide any work, Hoss would shirk his chores and take them fishing. Anne Marie found she didn't have the patience to master the art, but Matthew was an expert fisherman, and she admired him for it. On those days she would bring along her sewing basket and, once she had thrown in the towel and seceded to the fact that she would be coming home empty-handed yet again, she would sit under the shade of her wide-brimmed sunhat and sew.
It was mystifying to Matthew how she could be so wild and yet so domestic. She looked just as contented when she was sewing as she did mounting Polly and racing across the Ponderosa. It was as though she needed both to be complete. She wanted to be beautiful and pristine and elegant, with ribbons woven through her tresses and large, colorful hats resting atop her head. She wanted to be delicate and sweet and irresistible with a subdued air of refinement sprinkled atop every mannerism. But she couldn't shake the desire she sometimes had to let her hair ravel in the wind, subject to its gusty gales, or tear blindly over the thousands of acres of the Ponderosa, caring not where her ambling path took her. Contrary to normal human behavior, she took comfort in the country's untamable wilderness and security in the risk it promised. It was her home, and nothing could ever frighten her about her home. Instead, she found that it entertained her with countless marvels and excited her in a way nothing else ever had.
Matthew didn't share this wild spirit of Anne Marie's. In fact, he was much more like Rachel – docile and quiet and responsible – but he wished he could be more like her. She thrilled him and helped him forget his families' troubles, if only for an afternoon, and he felt as if she genuinely cared for his wellbeing. Her heart was pure, even if her temper was strong, and ever since his first day of school Matthew had been enraptured with Anne Marie Cartwright. In the same way, Anne Marie found herself extremely intrigued with Matthew. He wasn't a thing like her father, yet he reminded her of Little Joe somehow, and her heart went out to him in his economic situation. A great amount of sympathy stirred within her every time she rode to Washoe to whisk him away to the Ponderosa, and she wished there was something she could do for him. Little did she know that the opportunity would present itself much sooner than she imagined.
On a peaceful night in late July, the sudden din of rapid hooves pounding against the ground woke Anne Marie from her slumber with a start. She rushed to her window, pulling back the frilly pink curtains to see Matthew hurriedly dismounting the one mare the family owned and running toward the front door. She dashed out of her room, slipping her robe over her shoulders and attempting to tie it before she reached the door. Dinah was at her heels and she fairly tripped down the stairs in her haste. She heard the thump of her uncle's big feet on the floor and knew he would be close behind.
"Anne Marie!" Hoss called from the top of the stairs, scooping Dinah up in his arms so the cat wouldn't scurry out the door when she flung it open.
Matthew stood on the other side, his chest heaving. His face looked like it had been drained of any emotion other than fear, and the freckles that usually dotted his cheeks had all but disappeared, erased by white fright. His whole body shook in panic, but he didn't have time for consolation.
"M-Ma," he gasped, hardly able to speak between furious gulps of air.
"What's wrong with your ma?" Anne Marie was horrified. Something must be desperately wrong; he wouldn't have ridden out to the Ponderosa in the middle of the night if it wasn't.
"She's havin' her baby," he said, "but the doctor's in Carson City and there's no one to come!"
Anne Marie looked up at her uncle looming above her, helpless.
Tears streamed down Matthew's face as the thought of losing both his mother and her unborn child grew nearer and nearer with each passing moment.
"Pa didn't know who to call," he said finally.
"Run upstairs and get dressed, Anne Marie," Hoss said. He placed Dinah in her arms then grabbed his hat off the peg in the wall. "I want ya to wake up Hop Sing and help 'im load the buggy. He'll know what to do. I'm gonna get dressed myself then hitch up the horses. Matt, you go on home and tell your pa we'll be there soon."
In an instant the boy was gone and Anne Marie was tearing up the stairs, rushing into her room, and throwing a dress over her head after depositing Dinah back on the bed. She didn't worry with her hair, merely combed it back and tied it with the first ribbon she could find, which she would have acknowledged as utterly mismatched if she had been paying attention, but she was in too much of a tizzy to notice or even care if she had. She grabbed her thin riding jacket and raced back down the stairs and into Hop Sing's quarters, waking him in the most respectful manner possible under the circumstances. The disgruntled cook appeared irritable at first but instantly made himself useful, gathering the essential supplies and loading the wagon just in time for Hoss to come thundering out of the house, fully clothed and ready to go.
They made it to the Finneys' shanty mere minutes behind Matthew. Every bump in the road was magnified at their present speed, and Anne Marie clung to the seat beneath her so tight her arms ached when they finally pulled up in front of the house. Every so often she would look up at her uncle, his features set with determination but his eyes filled with disquiet. She had never known her uncle to be afraid of anything, especially since he was so big. She herself was scared but excited as well. The remainder of Cartwright clan was out of town on a cattle drive, and if it hadn't been for the emptiness in the house she knew she would have been left behind. As it was, Hoss had no option but to take her with him, and that meant that she would get to help. It made her feel grown up, sitting in sober silence next to her uncle, on her way to serve someone in need. She knew it was something her mother would have done if she were still alive, and it thrilled her to feel like her mother. Still, she did wonder what Hoss would be able to do. He wasn't a doctor, but she knew he had assisted in the births of many horses that now galloped about the Ponderosa. Perhaps that would be enough.
Mrs. Finney's cries pierced the precious quiet of the night as they entered the tiny cabin. Anne Marie herself had never been inside Matthew's home, and she was shocked at what she found there. She knew many of her classmates lived in one-room structures, but this was the smallest space she had ever seen. A miniscule bed, barely big enough for one, stood against the back wall not six feet from the door. There was no stove, only a tiny fireplace with a cauldron resting above the fire within. The hut had no floor, and the ground below looked as if it hadn't been swept in weeks. Small weeds were beginning to sprout here and there, splotching the brown dust with bursts of green that would soon take root if they weren't picked. A table that only seated two rested on the other side of the room, adjacent to the fireplace, and in the far left corner a meager assortment of food was piled in a great lump. The only thing the family appeared to own that wasn't essential to their survival was a large Bible sitting on the table.
Matthew's father sat on the edge of the bed, his wife's hand within his.
Anne Marie hung back at the door, stricken with fear. The agony etched into every crevice of the woman's face was frightening, but she didn't have time to be afraid.
Hoss's commands rang out among Mrs. Finney's moans. "Anne Marie, you an' Matt unload the buggy outside an' bring in all the towels you can carry," he said as he approached the bed.
The children ran out the door instantly.
"Mr. Finney, I'm Hoss Cartwright. You're wife's gonna be all right, I promise."
The auburn-haired man nodded meekly and shook his hand. "We're sorry to trouble you this time a night."
"That's jus' plain foolishness. Now I'm no doctor but I reckon I know more than most folks 'round here."
"We're just glad you're here." Mr. Finney said.
At that moment Anne Marie and Matthew returned, their arms heaped with fresh, clean towels. In a matter of hours most of them were soaked with blood, but Mrs. Finney lay in bed with a tiny pink infant in her arms. She looked more unkempt than Anne Marie's first ragdoll and the hair about her face and neck was wet and sticky with sweat, but a fragile smile slept contentedly upon mouth
"Come see your baby sister, Matthew," she said to her son, her hoarse voice barely above a whisper.
Matthew approached the bed and peered down into the blankets. The squirming child within looked odd to him, but when she reached up and touched his nose with her stubby little fingers, his lips curved upwards and his eyes began to gleam.
"What are ya gonna call her, Ma?" he asked, looking back up at his mother.
She and her husband exchanged tender smiles. "Her name is Mae," she said.
He nodded. "That's a good name."
She chuckled then turned to Hoss who was seated at the kitchen table, wiping his own sweaty face with the last clean towel. "Thank you, Hoss," she said. "If it wasn't for you and Anne Marie, Mae and I might not be here."
"That's what neighbors do, Ma'am. They help each other," he replied.
"I only wish we could repay ya," Mr. Finney said.
"Nothin' to repay," Hoss said with a flippant wave of his hand. "Fact, it looks like you folks are the one's hurtin'." He surveyed the room disapprovingly.
"We'll make out."
Hoss shook his head. "Not if ya keep on like this. Now, how would ya like to come work for us on the Ponderosa? My pa'd pay ya an honest day's wages."
Mr. Finney sighed and shook his own head. He observed the cramped shanty with barely enough food to live on then looked back up at Hoss. "I've been a rancher all my life, but the stories a the bonanza up here must a turned my head. Now look at us."
"You don't have to worry 'bout that anymore, Frank," Hoss said. "You're comin' to work for us and I ain't takin' no for an answer."
"You drive a hard bargain, Hoss," Frank said with a laugh, "I don't see's I can refuse." The men shook hands, then he turned to his wife.
"Everything's gonna be all right now, Betty." He petted her head softly and she lifted her free hand to touch his as her lids fell over her tired eyes.
Frank took little Mae from her limp arms, then held her out toward Anne Marie. "Would ya like to hold her, Anne Marie?"
The little girl's eyes widened, taken aback by the man's generous offer. Ever since Mae had been placed in Mrs. Finney's arms she had desired to reach out and touch her. She hadn't even dreamed that she would be allowed to hold such a delicate creature. She eyed Hoss for approval, and her face fairly lit up when he nodded in response.
"Go on, Annie," he said, "jus' be mighty careful."
Frank gently laid the bundle of blankets between her arms, and she wrapped them about the slumbering infant deliberately so as not to wake her. All around her, the world seemed to be fading into a sheer veil as thin as mist. The only thing she could hear was the crackling of the logs in the fire, and the only thing she could see was the babe within her arms, and in that moment she felt more grown up than she ever had in the entirety of her young life.
