Chapter 25
The Rest Is Silence
Through the big front window of the Territorial Enterprise, Juliet anxiously watched the street. A quarter to twelve. The sidewalk in front of the Silver Dollar saloon was getting more and more crowded. Some people at least tried to make their lingering in front of the saloon look incidental, others were plainly waiting. Adam had not turned up yet, and Juliet desperately hoped he wouldn't come at all.
On her way to work she had been held up by Josiah, who had breathlessly told her that Langford Poole was holding court at the Silver Dollar, collecting spectators. Apparently "the ugly stranger" had given Adam an ultimatum and was expecting him to face the gunslinger at noon. What a cliché! Juliet still had no idea what could have made Poole think Adam would even consider dueling with him, but Josiah had been sure he was about to witness the fight of the century and delighted that he had overheard the rumours on his way to school since otherwise he would have missed the great show. Juliet, however, had thwarted his plans.
"Why aren't you at school, Josiah?" she had asked him, and he should have known he was lost when he heard her tone.
Of course, he'd tried anyway. "You said for yerself, I hafta learn from life, ma'am. And I'm not the only one, Bob an' Mike an'—"
"You can learn from life after school, Josiah. Leaving aside the fact that there won't be anything to learn from Mr. Poole anyway. And don't you remember what I told you the other day about truancy?"
"Aww, ma'am, but I hafta see how Mr. Cartwright—"
"Mr. Cartwright would not want you to skip classes either. In fact he would be very disappointed if I told him that you absented from school to watch a gunfighter."
"Ya think so?"
"Josiah... Go to school. Now."
"But the duel..."
"There won't be a duel. Mr. Cartwright has no inclination to do such a foolish and barbaric thing."
"Are ya sure?"
"I am absolutely sure. Now hurry."
After a last heartbreakingly pleading gaze that had earned him only a short headshake, Josiah reluctantly had headed to school. He hadn't exactly slunk, but he hadn't sped either. With slumped shoulders he had strolled down the street, time and again kicking at the dirt. Juliet couldn't help but grin, fully aware that this could be her last smile for this day.
She had made her way to the office, deliberately ignoring the crowded gathering at the Silver Dollar when she passed the saloon. Joe Goodman had already been waiting for her, and had filled her in with all there was to know. It hadn't been much more than Josiah had told her: Poole was convinced he would get his fight today, for whatever reasons. Half of Virginia City was eagerly waiting to view the spectacle, bets were being made, and Joe Goodman had his pen ready.
"I bet your friend Raymond is rubbing his hands already," Goodman had said. "The New Yorkers will love this story."
"There won't be a story, Mr. Goodman," Juliet had retorted rather brusquely. "Don't pitch your hopes too high. Mr. Cartwright won't take the bait."
Well, it turned out she wasn't as sure as she had tried to convince Goodman (and herself!) she was. She had paused in her work at about a quarter to ten and had begun to spend more time gazing out of the window than on the papers before her. At half past eleven her chair had become rather uncomfortable, so she had decided to get up and walk some kinks out of her back. By pure accident her stroll through the office had led her to the front window; and she had remained there, her gaze steadily on the street, her mind filled with only one thought: please, no.
The crowd in front of the overstuffed saloon increased by the minute; and even Roy Coffee showed his face and enforced some discipline. For a brief moment Juliet hoped that he could stop the insanity should Adam turn up, but she didn't think the sheriff could do anything to prevent a fight if both combatants were agreed on it.
But no, there wouldn't be a fight. Adam would not come to Virginia City. He wouldn't let himself be baited into this duel. He wouldn't. He wouldn't trade his or Poole's life for some woolly concept of pride. No, Adam wouldn't do anything that he thought was wrong. "Adam, I don't think you are even capable of doing something dishonourable." What she had said yesterday was still true. She trusted him. He wouldn't come.
"No..."
At exactly nine minutes to twelve Juliet saw Adam Cartwright slowly ride past the big front window of the Territorial Enterprise and stop in front of the Silver Dollar saloon. She closed her eyes, buried her face in her hands, and let out a strangled sob. When she heard Joe Goodman standing up, she sharply turned to him before he could pass her.
"I'll go."
Goodman opened his mouth, clearly to protest, but Juliet fixed him with a burning glare.
"I'll go. There won't be anything to report anyway." She didn't wait for an answer. She was out of the office and across the street even before Adam had completely dismounted.
"Adam, I'd like a word with you." She knew he didn't like to be commanded like that, but this wasn't the time for niceties. She seized his arm and practically dragged him into the side street next to the saloon. The two or three bystanders who where stupid enough to think they could eavesdrop on them were glared away easily. Juliet was way beyond normal Queen's battle stance: she was in emergency mode.
"Adam, what are you doing here?"
"I'm...you know what I'm doing here, don't you?" His voice was tense, and a bit resigned. As usual his eyes were saying a little more. Let me.
But she couldn't let him. For many reasons she couldn't let him let her down. "Yes, I've heard people talking. But why, Adam? Why are you doing it when you know it's wrong?"
"It was wrong, Juliet, but it isn't anymore. Things have...changed."
"What, what has changed since yesterday? Adam, what was wrong yesterday can't be right today." She gripped his arms and shook him. "What has he done? Has Poole threatened your family? Is it that? Are you protecting them?"
He looked nearly pleading. "No, he—I'm not...Look, I don't..." She had never heard him stammer like that. "Please, don't ask. I can't tell you; it would be a...breach of trust. Just believe me, I have to do this."
"Adam, please...whatever it is, it can't be worth a duel. It can't be worth a life; not yours, not Poole's!"
He didn't answer, just shook his head. No, he wouldn't back off.
"Adam, I beg you..." Had someone told her she would fall on her knees in front of anyone, she would have called him a dimwit. But she was desperate; and she would do anything to keep Adam from making a mistake—a mistake that could be fatal. However, her way down to her knees was stopped by Adam, who held her at her elbows.
"Don't, Juliet, don't do this. It won't change anything; and you'll hold it against me for the rest of your life." He made sure she stayed upright, then cupped her cheek. "I have to go now," he said softly.
She would have loved to lean into his touch, into his hand: his warm, tender hand that had held hers while they danced; his calloused, injured hand she had nearly kissed; his steadfast, strong hand that had kept her upright so many times. But even though his hand was soft on her face and his voice was so apologetic it almost begged for acceptance, his eyes were far away already; he was as good as gone. Adam's hand slid from her face, his thumb softly brushing over the corner of her lips, and was gone even before she started to shiver. He looked into her eyes with his soul-piercing gaze, but apparently didn't care for the turmoil he must have seen there, because he just closed his eyes briefly and then turned to go.
There was nothing she could do. Nothing she could say. Nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing.
But maybe there was...maybe his hand on her cheek had meant more than catching her attention, more than trying to handle her. Maybe his hand on her cheek had meant that she could make a difference, that she wasn't as powerless as she felt.
"Adam," she made every effort to put a healthy dose of Countess of Barnstoke authority into it. "If you go and fight Poole now—"
"Then what?" His voice sounded sharp like a whiplash, and he whirled back.
Juliet took a step back when she saw his face. She had never seen his eyes so unguarded, so wild and furious, so...tortured. Her hands flew to her mouth, holding back the sob that threatened to escape; and with sudden clarity she knew: there was nothing she could do or say. Whatever had changed, whatever his reasons were, he knew he was doing the right thing; all he asked for was her loyalty.
Her smile was weak and unsteady, but natural and genuine. "Then...take care, Adam."
He nodded and returned a smile. A half smile only, but it seemed more precious than every brilliant grin he had ever flashed her before.
She took his arm before he could turn again. "Adam, do you remember: yesterday you said you'd be loyal to me."
"What do you...?"
"If you want to be loyal to me, then live. I've had enough dead honourable men in my life; it would be a nice change to keep one living."
"I'll do my best, Juliet, I promise."
"Be careful, I'll hold you to that."
How they managed to laugh she would never understand, but they did. Low, softly, almost humourless—but it was a laugh. They had had this exchange before over a much less crucial matter; and Juliet was painfully aware that Adam had not held his last promise: his thumb was still bandaged, clearly not "fine" like he had sworn.
Adam loosened her grip from his arm. "I'll see you later," he said and tipped his hat with a nearly mocking smile, then he turned and went onto A Street, back to the Silver Dollar saloon.
Juliet stared after him, unable to move, unable to go and watch what was bound to happen. She heard Poole's triumphant voice, announcing how happy he was that Cartwright had finally decided to be a man; she heard whooping and shouts from the excited crowd; and she heard Adam's low baritone saying, "Just let's get this over with, Poole."
From her position, leaning against a wall in the shadowy side street, she couldn't see more than a small rectangular section of the dusty, sun filled main street, but anyhow she stared into that sunny square unseeingly. She didn't see the horses waiting in front of the saloon, she didn't see the people rushing by, and she didn't see the dogfight beneath the sidewalk on the other side of the street. She didn't see anything but the memory of a lifeless young face under a shock of thick honey blonde hair, a male version of herself: Henry. Henry on his deathbed, pale, torn, gone. And then the image blurred and rearranged into another pale face, another limp body, another blood-soaked shirt. Please, no.
The tumult on the street ebbed away; but the following silence somehow seemed louder than the riot. It even drowned out the sound of her heart, her heart that was pounding against her ribcage in a furious rhythm as if it wanted to break free. Juliet stared at the wall opposite, wide-eyed, frozen. Unconsciously, she brought her hands to her chest; they clasped, palm pressed against palm, fingers entangled; kneading each other, entwining in never-ending motion as seconds stretched into an eternity.
She flinched when two shots rang out, so close they nearly sounded as one. Heaving a shuddering breath, Juliet squeezed her eyes shut for two, three seconds, compressed her lips, praying without words, without expressive thoughts. All she had left were emotions, and she sent them up to a place she long ago had started to doubt. But where else could she unload all that was packed up inside? And then there was a word, one single word: please.
Eventually Juliet pushed herself from the wall, tucked back her hair, smoothed her skirt and made four, five steps out onto the street.
A Street was even more crowded than it had been when she had rushed over the street to meet Adam, only fifteen minutes ago. Fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes or for ever, was there a difference? Juliet urged her way through the masses to the place on the sidewalk where the most people had gathered in a throng that pulsed with commotion, like one giant living organism.
It looked as if the whole population of Virginia City had been waiting for this one occasion. The whole population of Virginia City—and Jarvis Raymond. Jarvis stood in front of the Silver Dollar saloon with a flushed face and was feverishly scribbling into his small black note book. He stood there alone, with people rushing by him, rushing onto the street. Onto the street where, twenty feet or so apart, two men lay motionless on the dusty ground. Two men. Two. Two.
"No. No, no, no, no..."
ooOoo
When the game is over, the king and the pawn
go into the same box. ~ Italian Proverb
We cannot be sure of having something to live for
unless we are willing to die for it. ~ Che Guevera
drmweaver2265, did you envision this scenario? I like how you've put it, Adam's "dance of emotions" - what a wonderful word picture!