Chapter Thirty-Six

Adam and Shiloh stepped off the steamer Chrysopolis onto the dock at Sacramento at eight o'clock on the evening of Saturday, April 4, 1863. The steamer had an unanticipated extended stop at Rio Vista, causing it to be late to port in Sacramento. The Cartwrights had missed the last stagecoach, and the next on the schedule to Virginia City wouldn't leave until Monday morning.

"It looks like we're spending Sunday in Sacramento City," said Adam.

"That's not so bad. I can walk over to the American Theatre with a new performance contract."

"I need to see if the telegraph office is still open. Pa was expecting us tomorrow. But first, we need to find a hotel." Once their trunks and bags were loaded on a coach, Adam told the driver to take them to the Golden Eagle Hotel.

"Is that where you usually stay when you're in Sacramento City?" asked Shiloh.

"No, I don't stay in a hotel as opulent as the Golden Eagle."

"Then why are we staying there now?"

"Because we are still on our honeymoon", he said, kissing her hand. "Besides that, you need to keep up appearances since Isabella Whitney will be seen at the American Theatre tomorrow."

"I don't plan to be seen by anyone but the manager."

"Shiloh, the minute you walk into that theatre, people will know who you are. As a matter of fact, I wouldn't be surprised if someone recognizes you at the Golden Eagle. They are known for knowing who their guests are and announcing them in the newspaper."

"Then why are we staying there?"

"Because I guarantee that you will be recognized before we leave for Virginia City, and you have a reputation to uphold."

"What happens when I come to Sacramento with you on other business…like cattle or horses?"

Adam twisted his mouth. "We'll deal with that when it happens."

"I am not going to pander to the privileged. I'm not a singer who owns a ranch. I'm a rancher who sings."

Adam simply smiled when he helped her out of the coach in front of the hotel. He asked the coach driver to wait until he was sure there was a suite available, and he and Shiloh went into the hotel.

"May I help you, Sir?"

"Do you have a suite available?"

"Your name, Sir?"

"Cartwright."

"And where are you from?"

"The Ponderosa Ranch near Virginia City."

"Ah, the Ponderosa." Looking at Shiloh, the desk clerk said, "And you must be Miss Isabella Whitney." Shiloh looked at Adam with wide eyes. "We make it our business to know anyone who might be staying with us, and the manager at the American Theatre has mentioned that you might be singing there this year. Of course, Ponderosa beef is well known here as well. And the announcement of your marriage and subsequent stay in San Francisco still graces our society column in the Daily Union."

Adam cleared his throat. "While we're here at the hotel, you are to address my wife as Mrs. Cartwright."

"Of course, Mr. Cartwright. I'll have someone deliver your baggage to your room. You will be at the center of the hall in room 315. You can view the site of the new capitol building from your private balcony."

Taking the key, Adam nodded and said, "Thank you," then led Shiloh to the stairs.

The clerk watched until they were out of sight, and then turned to a young boy who ran errands for the hotel. "Run down to the Pacific Railroad office and tell Mr. Crocker that one of the Cartwrights from the Ponderosa is in town."

After their trunks and bags were delivered to their room, Shiloh removed her dress jacket and walked out onto the balcony. Adam followed her and rubbed her shoulders. "You seem a little tense."

"Not much of a view, is there? Especially with all the work to raise the streets."

"Oh, I don't know," Adam answered, turning her around. "From where I'm standing, it's quite beautiful." He was rewarded with a timid smile. "Now, tell me what's bothering you."

"It would be nice if I wasn't so readily recognized. And this time, it was because of my association with you. I guess that mess in San Francisco is ripe for the society pages."

"Do you remember when you went to San Francisco the first time…not long after you came home from Boston?"

"Hm," she grunted with a wide smile. "Yes, I do. You almost kissed me in my dressing room."

Now, it was his turn to smile. "I remember that. Anyway, you were worried about your privacy here and had thought you wouldn't sing before that. Do you remember?"

Taking a deep breath, she conceded. "I know what you're getting at. I knew this would happen."

"You just need to accept that people are going to recognize your name as well as your face…and enjoy it. Now, are you hungry? It's been awhile since you've eaten anything."

"Yes, I am hungry, but can we eat at the hotel restaurant tonight? I really don't feel like going far."

"We'll go back downstairs when you're ready." He watched her walk to the bedroom of their suite. He could tell by the rigidness of her back that she was still tense.

After they were seated for dinner and had ordered, Adam asked, "Is something else bothering you?"

She gave him a half-smile. "I might as well not even try to deny it. You've gotten quite good at reading me." He gave her such an intense look that she felt a warm chill and blushed. "At dinner last night, the maitre d' asked you something very quietly as if I wasn't supposed to hear. You said 'no', and you looked…angry. What did he say?"

Adam sat up straight, taking a deep breath, then moved his napkin to his lap, and looked back up at her. "If that's what's bothering you, I suspect you already know what that was about."

"Not exactly, but I'm pretty sure it had to do with Will."

"Will asked the maitre d' to send a bottle of champagne over with his best wishes. The maitre d' remembered us and the altercation in the lobby and thought he should ask if we wanted it. I told him 'no.'" When Shiloh moved her hands to her lap and looked away, Adam leaned forward. "Shiloh there's no fault here."

"That's not true. I've brought this down on you."

"No, you haven't. Will is doing a good job of making a fool of himself all on his own." He reached across the table, holding his hand out, and she hesitantly took it. Just his touch, the warmth and strength of it, made her feel more at ease. "He's not here. He's seventy-five miles away."

"Excuse me, Mr. Cartwright, but this was just delivered for you," said the hotel manager as he laid an envelope on the table.

"Thank you," said Adam, picking the envelope up and opening it.

Shiloh turned away, propped her elbow on the table and cradled her chin in her hand, mumbling, "It can't be."

Adam snorted. "No, it can't. It's an invitation from Charles Crocker. He'd like us to have dinner with him and his wife tomorrow evening."

"Does it say why?"

"I'm sure it has to do with the railroad. Crocker's in charge of construction from the west end."

"Railroad ties?"

"Maybe more, though I've never had a railroad man seek us out. We're usually answering a bid request, and there weren't any that I hadn't seen when we left Virginia City."

"And so it starts," she said, smiling.

After dinner, they retired to their room. Shiloh went to bed, but Adam stayed up to read the newspaper, hoping he could glean something from it that would tell him why Charles Crocker might want to see him.