Chapter Fifty

Amalee sat on one side of the coach facing the Cartwrights. Abel had had a late nap and squirmed on Adam's lap.

It was Adam who broke the silence. "You might have told me."

"Told you what?"

"That no one, including me, was allowed in the opera hall while you were working."

Shiloh looked down at her hands and smiled, inwardly excited about what she heard this afternoon. They'd added more strings, both bass and cello, viola and two violins as well as more deep brass, tuba, tenor and bass trombone and French horns at tenor, woodwinds…bass clarinet and contra-bass clarinet, bassoon, contra-bass oboe and percussion. And then there was the unassuming piano. It appeared to her that this play was going to come together well as the musicians were anxious to be part of something so…unusual. Titus had every right to be very proud of his work.

"Shiloh?"

"Hm? Oh. I'm sorry, Adam. I didn't know we were going to do that until…well, until we were doing some experimenting that brought some curiosity seekers into the hall, some of them members of one of the muscian's family. At that point, they all agreed no one would hear this play until opening night and that included their families. I didn't think if fair that I be an exception."

"It's that unusual?" he asked.

She flashed her eyes at his as she smiled, answering his question.

When they arrived at home, Lo had dinner ready, so everyone settled at the dining room table.

"Amalee," said Shiloh as she moved her napkin to her lap, then tucked Abel's napkin into the top of his shirt. "Was your family excited to see you?"

"My mother was," said Amalee without looking up from her plate. "My father was…occupied…by customers."

"Does your mother help in the store?" asked Adam.

"Yes sir. She helps with the ledger. She stocks. She reorders. They both do that, but my father had a particularly difficult customer. The man refers to us as 'you Quakers.'"

"I see," said Adam. "I hope you don't put too much stock into what people like that say. There's nothing wrong with being a Friend."

Abel was being particularly difficult tonight, spitting out most of what went into his mouth. His mother moved his bowl away and stopped trying to feed him, but Abel got his father's attention with a loud protest.

"Abel, if you're not going to eat your food, you can go to bed." Leaning down to look the child in the eye, Adam lifted the bowl on the tray of the high chair. Do you want this?"

After a quick 'NO', Abel shook his head from side to side. He had begun to use his 'new' word more often.

"All right then," said Adam, passing the bowl to Shiloh. "But you will sit there quietly while the rest of us finish our dinner.

When everyone turned away from him, Abel's finger found its way into his mouth, and when he realized no one was paying attention to him, he began to cry. It became a full-out fit when everyone continued ignored him.

Shiloh had begun to push away from the table, when Adam said, "I'll take care of this."

Looking up at him with doe-eyes, he interrupted her just as she was about to speak. "Shiloh, I will take care of this." He lifted Abel out of his high chair and disappeared up the stairs. A few more loud no's and squeals floated down the stairs into the dining room before being replaced with quiet sobs.

Shiloh listened to Adam trot down the stairs, and when he was seated next to her again, she placed her napkin on the table. "If you'll excuse me…"

"Shiloh, finish your dinner. You're eating for two."

"Adam, how am I supposed to feel like eating…"

He stopped chewing the bite he'd just taken and looked at her, her brow creased with worry. He couldn't fault her for being a mother. He smiled and looked down at his plate, cutting another bite of steak as he chewed. "He was more interested in acting out than eating. That means he wasn't really hungry."

"I wasn't going to say he was hungry. But he was cooped up in the opera hall most of the day." She picked up her fork and began pushing food around on her plate. "I don't know if I should be trying to work. He needs time to play."

Wiping his mouth, Adam turned his attention to Amalee. "Amalee, I noticed you don't use the pronouns most Friends use."

Amalee looked at Shiloh, then away. "How do you know how we speak?"

Bowing her head, Shiloh smiled. "There was a woman Adam knew…before me. She was a Friend."

Amalee slightly tilted her head as she looked at Adam. She opened her mouth to speak, but shook her head instead, changing her mind on the subject. "Uh, my…Aunt…Susan…" She looked back at Shiloh. "Told me not to speak…that way… around other people if I wanted them to take me seriously."

Giving Amalee a curious look, Shiloh said, "You must have worked very hard at it. I imagine speaking a certain way most of your life would be a hard habit to break."

"It wasn't really that hard. I didn't speak as a Friend would while I was in school. In fact, there are many of us who no longer speak that way."

Adam nodded and changed the subject. "Shiloh, what if Tom gave you a dressing room at the hall," said Adam. "Amalee could take Abel back and forth from the hall to the room when he gets restless, and we can take in some of his toys. And," he said slightly shrugging, "if I get a break, I can come by and take him outside for a while."

Shiloh swallowed hard. She honestly thought she would have to back out of the play. A slight smile, one of relief, turned her lips up at the corners. "Thank you."

Adam's eyes smiled with his lips. "You're welcome."

That evening after Amalee had retired and the house had quieted, Shiloh sat in front of her dressing table brushing her hair. It was getting late and Adam hadn't come upstairs, so she pulled on the silk gown and robe Adam liked most and set off to find him. She found him sitting on a table in front of the fireplace, much like he did at home when he had something on his mind.

"Adam?" she said quietly.

"Hm?" he said, glancing her way. Before she answered he'd turned back to the fire.

She studied him as she shivered and rubbed her arms. The room wasn't particularly cold, having been kept warm by the fire, but the expression on his face…his brows curved, the fire flickering in his unseeing eyes, and his mouth, what would have looked relaxed to most people, but not to Shiloh. She sat in the chair next to the fireplace, so she could see if his expression changed. Taking a deep breath before she broke the silence, she said, "What's on your mind?"

Adam didn't move. Rather, he continued staring at nothing. When he finally did speak, it seemed the only thing that moved…or changed…was his lips. "I sent a telegraph to Mark Harris for a recommendation."

Shiloh stiffened. "For what?"

"A guard. I'm meeting with someone Mark recommended tomorrow. Caleb Cole."

"I see."

"He'll be escorting you back and forth to town."

"I thought I would be riding in the coach with you."

"I won't be going directly to town every day. When you're working here at the ranch, there will be men around you."

"If you mean while I'm working with the horses, I won't get much work done. And that means, I won't have Haggin's horses ready for him when he comes to get them in three weeks. Paul said I could ride for a few weeks more, but with the baby, I really can't go any further than that."

"Shiloh, I'm not going to argue with you about this. If you had just done what I asked, I wouldn't feel the need to arrange it."

"Adam, you know perfectly well I can't do the last part of the training if there's anyone else around. I have to have the horse's undivided attention, and I don't have that when there are distractions. If you intend to do this, I won't be able to deliver on the contract I have with Haggin."

He said nothing, and when he clenched his teeth, she said, "Fine. Maybe Abel and I will go back home. If I can't train the horses here, I'll take them home to train them."

"It will take you two weeks to get back, and you'll mess up Haggin's plans to take the horses back east. And what about this play?"

She folded her lips into a tight line and looked away. "Titus will have to find someone else if he can't wait. I made a commitment to Haggin first." She stood and started out of the room, but Adam stopped her with what she thought a curious question.

"Would you choose the play over the horses?"

"In this instance, yes. The play is…it's different. It's not like anything I've ever heard, and it…it could be the talk of the entire year...something that could mean success for Titus. It wouldn't be bad for me either, considering I haven't been performing." Her back went rigid. "But a commitment is a commitment, and if I can only do one, it has to be Haggin's horses." Leaving the parlor, she headed toward the front door where she pulled her shawl over her shoulders and walked out to the porch. She sat in a rocking chair and looked out into a fog so thick, she couldn't see anything very far beyond the porch. It didn't matter really. The fog, in this case, was like the fire to Adam at the moment…something to stare into.

Adam listened to the sound of her footsteps and was satisfied she had gone no further than the porch. He didn't know what else to do. After she had been almost beaten to death by Will Stewart, he thought that would be it. And though he had used Abel's difficult birth to restrict her, that really didn't have anything to do with the restriction. Whatever was going to happen with this child would happen no matter what he did. They weren't even absolutely sure she was with child. But now that she'd been shot, and as it turned out while she may be with child, he couldn't ignore the dangers of simply being a Cartwright while they were in San Francisco. Just the lawsuit he would be handling while they were here might provoke some unexpected behavior from their legal adversary.

All she could think about were his promises. But then this really didn't affect his literal promises. She could still sing and work with the horses. Maybe she was just uncomfortable here in San Francisco. And she certainly owed Abel more of her time. She sighed and ran her fingers back through her hair. She didn't have a child when Adam made those promises, nor was she expecting one. Walking back into the house and into the parlor, she found Adam sitting where he'd been with exactly the same expression. "Adam," she said.

He shifted without looking at her.

"I would like to offer a compromise."

"I'm listening", he answered while casting his eyes upward.

"I will ride with you in the coach when you are going into town first thing in the morning, and I will ride in the coach when you are not. I don't want a guard. He will attract unwanted attention. I would like to have the freedom to ride my horse while I still can, but I'm willing to give that particular enjoyment up for the sake of compromise as long as we're here."

"So far so good," he said rather flatly.

"If you post men on the perimeter of the acreage I use to train…tell them to stay out of sight...that will sufficiently allay my concerns about distractions while I'm finishing a horse."

For the first time since Adam had taken up his vigil by the fire, his head turned down. Still he was silent.

"What's wrong, Adam?" she snapped. "You've gotten everything you wanted."

"And you haven't?" he responded with a glare.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Hardly," she said so softly he couldn't make out the word.

"What did you say?"

"Never mind. It wasn't important." She turned and headed for the stairs. The truth was, she would prefer to be at home. This place, though comfortable, was not home. She had more freedom at home. But she would never say any of this aloud. She was happy he had found a way to use his education, and she drew a personal line at making him feel badly about the opportunity. The truth was, when it came right down to it, it no longer mattered how he kept his promises. She couldn't imagine life without him.