The site gave me trouble this morning posting this. Anyway, thanks to those who are reading and hope this eases any anxiety or tension (or even boredom) you may feel at being housebound.
Ten ~ Close to the Chest
"Beautiful night, isn't it?" Ben stepped out on the front porch where Adam sat working out a tune on his guitar.
"Yeah, it is." Adam placed one palm over the strings of his guitar, stilling it. "I expect we'll get some rain in a week or two. Hope with the snowmelt and all, we don't have any flooding but I prefer that any day to a drought."
"We're lucky we have that creek running through our own property. Flooding or not." Ben shoved his hands into his pockets and looked up at the sky. "Clear sky tonight. Look at those stars—beautiful. Your mother used to say that each star was an angel because in Paradise Lost, the angels are said to give off different lights."
Adam put down his guitar. "You come out to talk to me about anything special, Pa, or just to wax poetic about stars?"
Ben looked at Adam and chuckled. "I was hoping you had something to tell me and was just waiting. You seem to be struggling with something."
Adam grinned and scratched above one eyebrow. "Well, I've been struggling with a few things. Although you haven't said anything, Pa, I'm guessing you've noticed I've been drinking more than usual. And your best whiskey, at that."
Ben chuckled. "I've noticed. Couldn't help but notice as Hop Sing's been keeping track of the empty bottles in your room. He had a little talk with me. Told me to, how did he say it? "Put boot hard on floor."
"Come to put your foot down, then?"
"No, you've never been one for fooling yourself. This talk here proves you're aware of what you've been doing. I was hoping you'd get a grip on things yourself but if you need my help with anything, if you need to dry out someplace…"
"Thanks, Pa, but I have to deal with this myself. All that whiskey, not to mention the mezcal I lived on in Mexico, has muddled my brain, even brought about a bit of amnesia, of a sort. It's scared me a little—this having trouble remembering simple things, but I guess that's the benefit of drinking for most people. But I kept thinking about Old Dixie and how he finally died in his own vomit, having drunk from the wrong bottle. Frank Morrow as well, swallowed a bullet to cheat the hangman after beating his wife to death while drunk. I have to stay away from it and find it easier to resist whiskey's lure while outside. Surprised you didn't lock the liquor cabinet, though."
"I considered it. You want me to?"
"No. Might as well have it there, open and waiting for me. I used to have such a sense of strength…I need to get that back."
"If you need help…" Ben saw Adam was finished with that conversation; his son took on a look that ended any further discussion. "Anything else bothering you?"
Adam stepped off the porch, glancing back at the house, and Ben followed. The front window was open and the sounds of Joe and Hoss playing checkers floated out, Hoss protesting being jumped yet again and Joe, trying to garner sympathy over his bruised ribs.
"Well, Pa, I had an interesting day—don't really know where to start. I rode over to the Running D…don't worry, I stayed on our side. Well, I met Mansfield's daughter. She was looking about the place. It seems that's where Mansfield might want to put his permanent house, at least his daughter said as much."
"Oh, so he has a daughter?"
"Yes, and I would have known it if I hadn't tossed that goddamn dossier into the fire. Anyway, her name is Cammie Louise and she invited me home to meet her father, guess she thought we might be friendly. Partway there, we were accosted by a few of Mansfield's henchmen but things went smoothly enough. So, I lunched with her; they have a damn good cook. Found out Mrs. Mansfield is deceased and so are Cammie's two brothers, casualties of war; their portraits were on the sideboard along with an antique silver service – her grandmother Brackett's, Cammie said. And there's a large painting of her mother resting on the mantle in the parlor—not yet hung up; I'm sure the artist flattered her to earn his commission."
"What do you mean?"
"I think he made her lovelier than she really was since Cammie said she resembles her mother."
"Not a pretty girl, hmm?"
"In a word, homely, and she's not a girl. Close to 30."
"Eager to get married?" Adam shrugged. "Did you see Mansfield?'
"No, he never came home while I was there."
"And? What else?" Ben waited while Adam considered.
"The house wasn't much—I was surprised at first, but then if your plans are to sell the property, why would you spend all that money building a beautiful home only to have a locomotive barrel through your parlor? Didn't get a good look at the rest of the house although there couldn't be much more, looking from the outside, just the bedrooms. And…I asked Cammie to the spring social tomorrow night."
"And Miss Mansfield said yes?"
"Almost jumped at it the way the fish did the other day, even invited me to dinner beforehand. Does make me a little suspicious, though. Our meeting may have been a coincidence, just pure chance, but then, suppose she was asked by her father to 'enchant' one of us if she came across a Cartwright. Everyone hereabouts knows you have three bachelor sons and you're single yourself—some women like older men."
"All right. That's enough, Adam."
Adam chuckled. "All right. I'll find out if it was accidental or intentional tomorrow, I suppose. and I'll meet the Colonel again over breaking bread."
"Unless you're ambushed driving there. Adam, I don't know that…"
"Pa, it'll be all right. Don't worry about it; I'll be fine."
"I know what you think, Adam, that you can take care of yourself but…" Ben looked at his eldest and wanted to protect him. But Adam had been through three years of a bloody war and wandered to Mexico and had managed to come home. He was a man and yet Ben's heart yearned to keep his sons close to him and safe. But he had to let go. "Think the Colonel'll recognize you?"
"I don't know. I only came face to face with him twice. You're talking about 1,000 men in a regiment and him at the top."
"Well, Adam, looks like you did have an interesting day."
Adam lowered his brows. "I also ran into Kelley—actually, he was waiting for me on the road. He has men working for Mansfield and I think a few of your newer hires may be agents working for Kelley too."
"What?"
"Now, Pa, I wouldn't be surprised. Actually, once you consider, it's even to be expected."
"Well, I don't expect it. How many of them? Should I fire them?"
Adam put up his hands. "No, don't fire anyone. Kelley didn't confirm anything but I just wonder."
"Well, that's a helluva thing." Ben pursed his lips.
Adam chuckled. "Don't worry about it, Pa. Just go about business as usual."
"Business as usual! When I may have spies working for me."
"Pa, you have nothing to hide. It's not like they sleep in the house and if you watch…" Suddenly, Adam realized he hadn't considered all possibilities.
"What is it, Adam?"
"Now, I just landed on the idea that Mansfield may have seeded one or two of his men in the Ponderosa new hires."
"What? Why would…"
"I don't know, Pa. I'm just saying it's a possibility. Tell you what—get the sign-up list of names of any unfamiliar hires, you know, men who've never signed on before for spring roundup, and I might check things out. Maybe find Kelley—or let him find me—and ask him about them. They may just be cowhands."
"Yes, yes," Ben said, his brow furrowed. "Adam, what did Kelley have to say about you squiring Miss Mansfield to the dance?"
"Nothing—didn't tell him, didn't want to tip my hand too soon."
"Ben frowned. Well, about the list, I'll do that right now. Right now." Ben turned but Adam stopped him with a hand on his father's shoulder. "What?"
"Bring me a bottle of the best rye whiskey we have."
"What? But, Adam, you just said that…"
"I know, I know. Just trust me. Please. And an unopened deck of cards."
Ben hurried to the house and Adam sat back on the porch. He smiled, shaking his head as he heard a checkerboard and checkers hit the wall and Hoss calling Joe a "dadburn, no-good cheater! No one can be that lucky!" Adam wanted a drink; it would ease his anxieties that were like ants crawling over his skin. But instead, he pulled a pack of rolling papers and a small bag of cut tobacco out of his shirt pocket and rolled a cigarette. Once lit, Adam sat back and waited for it to take the edge off his desire for the smooth whiskey sitting in the liquor cabinet and the bottle of rye his father would bring him.
~ 0 ~
The men in the bunkhouse were all new hires except for Landry, the foreman, and the cook who everyone called Pop. He was asleep in a rocking chair over by the kitchen stove, snoring in his low, gravely way. Lyndon, the barn boy, lay on his top bunk reading a well-worn dime novel, Dandy Rock, the Man from Texas. He glanced to see who had come in and then went back to the world of heroes and their derring-do, things he could only imagine.
After saying hello to Landry, Adam introduced himself to the five new men and proffered the whiskey and the unopened deck of cards. "Thought I'd start up a game and introduce myself since we'll be working on round-up together. I'm Adam Cartwright and there's no better way to known a man, in my opinion, than carousing and whoring with him, but since that's not possible, drinking and losing money to him-or the other way around – is going to have to do." Adam grinned while the men chuckled, introduced themselves, and quickly cleared the table while the one called "Sampson", pulled out glasses.
As he broke the seal on the deck and handed it to Dave Martell to shuffle, Adam went over in his head the names: Russ Staples, Jim Clayton, Bo Mason, Cory Sampson and then Martell who had a definite southern twang to his voice. During the first game, Martell said he was from Louisiana and after the war, figured that instead of going back home to "sticky heat, swamps, cottonmouths and alligators", he'd try his hand at baking heat, rattlers and wrangling cattle. "Lessen you got something 'gainst southern boys?" Martell asked, focusing on his cards, not looking up.
"The war's over," Adam said, "except when I hear dynamite go off at the mine. I almost shit myself then." It was then Martell looked up and met Adam's eyes and they both understood they were in the same place.
Nursing one drink the whole time, Adam lost fifteen dollars, most of it intentionally. Landry had remarked that being away for so long, Adam must have lost his edge at poker but he realized Adam didn't want to win all the money and alienate the men. Landry also knew that Adam was sizing up the new hires. Landry had worked for the Ponderosa for ten years this spring and as foreman for three, and he was familiar with the family's ways, the talents and flaws of the four men. So, Landry sat and watched the poker games, smoking his pipe and sipping rye whiskey while Adam shared his rolling papers and tobacco with the hands. Although all the men had their own smokes along with tins of chewing tobacco for the long days on horseback, they appreciated Adam's generosity.
Ben Cartwright was paying more than any other rancher in the whole state of Nevada and even Utah-$8.00 a week, beans and bunk, and both Saturday and Sunday off—and didn't require a man to attend church. The available positions were quickly filled, it only taking Ben and Hoss one afternoon to hire their men. They had only needed five new men anyway and if they didn't know how to rope and brand, Ben told them it was no problem. Either he or one of his sons would teach them—as long as they didn't mind the smell of burnt hair and hide.
It was almost 10:00 according to the clock on the wall, its pendulum ticking off the seconds, when Adam tossed in his cards. "That's it for me," Adam said, standing up and stretching. "Lost two weeks' pay. I'm done for."
"Two weeks' pay?" Bo said, standing up. "You work for pay?"
"The same as you," Adam said, straightening the cards and putting them back in the box. "You can keep what's left of the whiskey but I'm taking the cards. Going to mark them before the next game."
The men laughed and again, Adam shook hands all around. He stepped outside into the chilled air, breathing deeply and looking up at the stars. He had done it, had managed to have only one drink all night. Granted, he had smoked too many cigarettes but the three, drinking, gambling and smoking, seemed to go together. He walked slowly to the house; he would tell his father that Martell and Clayton had both fought for the Confederacy but had put it behind them. Cory Simpson had been in Texas during the war, down around the Mexican border towns, or so he said. As for Bo Mason, he had been working in Missouri on a milk farm. It was possible Russ Staples could be one of Kelley's men but Adam was unsure as the man was tight-lipped and grunted more than spoke. Or he could be Mansfield's. But as things were, Adam saw no immediate threat to the Ponderosa. He would advise his father that spring roundup begin as planned come Monday, starting with the high ground.
And in the bunkhouse, as Lyndon lay sleeping with his novel open on his chest and Landry shook Pop awake, Mason said to Martell, "You think it's true what Cartwright said about being paid the same as us?"
"Wouldn't surprise me. Ben Cartwright's a hard man."
"But I can't see him living on it."
"Hope he doesn't or he's got two long broke weeks ahead."
