Whose Sin Is Her Love – chapter five
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"Why don't you go check inside the shack while I take care of the horses?"
Joe Cartwright turned toward his brother and waved his agreement. Words just wouldn't come. He was dog tired and, if the truth was known, hurting. There was no way he was going to admit it to older brother, but his injured leg was bothering him. The cut was throbbing and his boot felt tighter on that leg than the other one. He'd been wracking his brain all day trying to figure out a way to keep Adam from noticing. Older brother was sure to see his calf when he took off his boots in order to sleep. Of course, he could just flop down on whatever the shack had that passed for a bed and pretend to fall asleep with his boots on.
Joe ran a hand a hand over his slightly wet forehead and sighed.
It wouldn't take much pretending!
They'd used the morning up finishing repairs at the shack the mudslide hit, shared a cold lunch, and then headed for its nearest neighbor. The shacks were about a half day's ride apart, so they'd traveled at most forty miles. He hadn't slept well the night before and felt like he'd been ridin' drag for a week or more.
It was a good thing the sun was going down 'cause he wasn't worth a barrel of shucks.
"You okay, Joe?"
The curly-haired man winced. He turned to look at his brother who stood outside of the stable attached to the shack.
"Just tired," he called back.
"Well then, go inside and lay down." Adam said as he moved into the stable. "And take your boots off. I want to take a look at that leg of yours when I get there."
Dang!
Joe turned toward the small building with a resigned sigh. He hadn't gone two feet when the door opened from the inside and the barrel of a shotgun filled the gap.
"You stay right where you are!" an odd voice ordered. "Don't you move!"
Joe blew out a breath. "Look, whoever you are, this is Ponderosa land and you're – "
"I'd suggest you get your hands up if you want to keep that pretty head of yours!"
'Pretty' head?
"And tell that other feller to come here too. I can see him hidin' in the stable." After a pause, whoever it was called out. "You hear me? You'll come out now if you don't want to see this little feller here end up with a hole in him big enough to drive a herd of longhorns through!"
Joe swallowed as he heard the unseen weapon 'click'.
"Adam? I think you better do what…whoever-it-is says."
His brother left the stable and advanced toward him, hands held high. "I assume my younger brother here told you that you are trespassing on our land? I –"
"There weren't no fences and I didn't see no signs. How do I know you ain't the ones trespassin'?"
"Our father owns this land."
"Is your father here?"
Adam glanced at him. "Well, no…."
"Don't mean much then, does it?"
Joe squinted in an attempt to see past the rifle and into the darkness to whoever it was who held the weapon. He could just make out their hands. They were small.
He was beginning to think it was a woman.
"If you need help, we'll be happy to give it to you," he offered. "We've got plenty of provisions in the wagon."
"I don't need no help. I can take care of myself."
"A familiar mantra," Adam muttered while rolling his eyes.
Joe wrinkled his nose and rolled his too.
"Look," older brother said, "my arms are getting tired. How about you put that rifle down and we come inside and discuss this like civilized human beings?"
"I ain't puttin' Matilda down. I know about men. You're all worthless as a pail of hot spit."
The curly-haired man scowled. "I think we've been insulted."
"I know we have," Adam agreed. "Will you at least come out where we can see you?"
Joe didn't know what he expected, but it wasn't what he got. The person holding the rifle might have been five-foot-five and was obviously a woman. She was dressed as a man in a long plaid shirt, blue janes, and a pair of rough work boots two sizes too big and looked like she hadn't seen the inside of a bath tub in a month of Sundays. He couldn't even tell what color her hair was. It looked dishwater blond, but that was probably because it hadn't seen a bar of soap in twice as long! A small bump under that large shirt revealed another thing.
She was pregnant.
Joe started to lower his arms. "Look, ma'am…."
The gun swung directly toward him. "Do I look like a 'ma'am'?"
"No, ma'am, I mean, no…Miss?" Joe sighed as he thrust his hands back into the air. "I don't know what I mean."
"I don't see a ring," Adam muttered under his breath.
"Ma'am," Joe tried again, changing it at her look to, "Miss….Miss….?"
She glared at him over the rifle. "Temperance Flowerdew."
He and Adam exchanged a look. "I beg your pardon?"
"My friends call me 'Tempy', but since you ain't a friend you better just make it Miss Flowerdew."
His brother cleared his throat. "Miss…er…Flowerdew, as you may have noticed the sun is nearly down and it's growing very cold. Could we please go inside to discuss this?"
She shook her head. "You can sleep with the horses. We can talk right here in the morning."
Joe felt his heart sink to his toes. He had really been looking forward to sleeping on a cot placed right next to a fully-stoked wood stove. He would never admit it to Adam – or Miss Flowerdew – but he felt ice-cold.
Adam stepped in front of him, arms still raised. "Miss Flowerdew, may I have a word with you?" he asked in that tone he had; the one that could melt a heart of stone. "Alone?"
"Whatever for?"
His brother's head inclined toward him.
What was Adam up to?
"I suppose," 'Tempy' said and backed up. "You can come up onto the porch, but no further."
Joe waited, not so patiently, while the pair talked in low tones. Every so often Temperance – what a name! – would look over big brother's shoulder at him. Finally, somewhat reluctantly, she nodded. The rifle went down and she stepped into the shack.
The door remained open.
His brother came to his side.
"What'd you tell her?" Joe asked.
"That you're sick and likely to catch your death if you have to sleep in the stable." Adam pinned him with that same look Pa had. "I wasn't lying, was I?"
"I'm –"
"Fine?" Big brother sighed. " No, you're not Joe. Your face is flushed and you're shivering." His hand shot out to touch his forehead. "Just when were you going to tell me about this fever?"
"It's the same fever I had last night," he snapped back, his dander up. " I didn't figure I had to tell you!"
Adam's gaze dropped to his boot. "Your leg is swollen."
"Maybe."
"Look, Joe, I know you hate to admit you're sick, but you're going to have to play it up inside. I need you to make Miss Flowerdew feel sorry for you."
"Why?"
"You know women. They can't resist mothering a man when he's sick."
"Are you two gonna stand there jawin' all night?" Temperance was back on the porch, rifle in hand. "If you are, I'm gonna go ahead and lock this here door and you and your skinny little brother can take your chances with the horses."
Adam grabbed his arm. "On our way."
As Joe shrugged free, his brother placed a hand on his shoulder. "And Joe, one more thing."
"Now what?"
"I need you to turn on the charm."
The curly-haired man rolled his eyes. "It might come as a surprise, older brother, but I don't find myself particularly attracted to a pregnant woman who looks like she spent a month in a pig sty, and probably doesn't smell much better!"
Adam grinned. "You know what they say, little brother, beauty is only skin deep."
Joe sighed as his brother stepped onto the porch.
If it was, it was gonna take an awful lot of scrubbing to find it.
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The night was a dark as the soul of the woman he had loved.
Ben ascertained first that Adah was still breathing, and then bounded down the hall to rouse Hoss and send him for the doctor. The first thing he did when he returned to her suite was go to the window and toss the curtains aside so the moonlight could find its way in. Then he lit a lamp and then….
He went to work.
Thank God he had spent as many years as he had as Paul Martin's friend! They'd spoken about everything and anything medical from how best to apply a tourniquet, to what to do in case of poisoning. He had no idea what Adah had taken, though the room had a scent he recognized as he stepped in – something like the kitchen when Hop Sing baked spice cake. As time progressed he noted an underlying medical smell and guessed it was laudanum.
Thank God! If Adah had taken arsenic, there would have been no hope.
Ben sat on the side of the bed and spoke to the unconscious woman as he went about checking her vitals. So far she'd been unresponsive to both his voice and touch. Adah's breathing was slow; shallow and erratic. Her ivory skin had turned a sickening shade of bluish-purple, as had her fingernails and lips. She had a pulse but it was slow. In fact, it was almost undetectable.
He placed a hand on her cheek and called her.
"Adah. Adah, can you hear me?"
A slight tremor shivered through the actress' slender frame. Otherwise there was no response.
"Adah, it's Ben." He patted her cheek. "Adah?"
Her head turned to the side and she moaned.
"Good. Good, you can hear me." Ben shook her gently. "Adah, I need you to wake up and confirm what you took."
'Why' she took it would have to wait for later.
When Adah failed to respond, he took hold of her shoulders and shook her. "Adah! Answer me!"
Her eyes flickered open. Just enough that he could see the pupils in the moonlight. They were contracted and far too small, as if she were gazing into a bright light.
He hesitated to do what Paul Martin had shown him. After all, the lesson had been given in case one of his sons – three strong young men – ever ingested something harmful. Ben drew a breath, whispered a quiet apology, and then ripped the bodice of her dress apart, revealing Adah's corset and the full, round breasts it held captive.
"Sorry," he apologized unnecessarily, and then took his knuckles and placed them where the dying woman's chest met her ribs and began to move them in a circular motion. A few seconds later, he moved to her upper lip and did the same.
"Pa?"
Ben turned toward the door. Hoss' massive form was framed within it.
"Did you find Paul?"
"He had to finish up what he was doin'. He should be here in ten minutes or so." Hoss advanced into the room. "How's Miss Menken?"
Ben turned back to the quiescent form on the bed. "Alive," he replied. "For now."
"Can I do anythin' to help, Pa?"
"Come here. We need to turn her on her side in case she vomits."
Ben inched forward and took hold of the supine woman as his son came to his side. Adah was limp in his arms. Her eyes opened and stared at him as they turned her onto her side and bent her knees, but there was no recognition in them.
"What do you think happened, Pa?" Hoss asked as he used his big hands to lay her down. "You think it was an accident?"
Ben's gaze went to the bedside table. He'd noticed the note before but had no time to read it. Turning back, he showed his son the small blue bottle he had pried out of the actress' hand.
"This was no accident, son." Unstopping the tear catcher, he sniffed the remnants of the liquid it contained. "It's laudanum."
"You mean….?" Hoss looked ill. "You mean Miss Menken tried to kill herself? Why would she do that?"
Why?
It was hard for someone like Hoss to understand. It was hard enough for him. To be driven to despair, to have so little hope – to feel so much pain – that you couldn't bear the thought of another day. He'd been close several times in his life, but had managed to cling to the hope of a new sunrise eclipsing the dark night of his soul.
"It's hard for you and me to know why, Hoss. Maybe it's living where we do, where each new day offers so many endless possibilities." Ben took Adah's hand in his own. "Or maybe it's the ability to see those possibilities and to reach out and grasp them. Whatever it is, I am afraid Adah does not possess it."
"Good Lord!" came the exclamation of a familiar voice.
Ben rose and turned toward the door. "Paul."
"Make way," the physician said, all business. He put his bag on the table by the bed, dislodging the note that lay there so it fluttered to the floor. "Has she responded at all?"
"Adah moaned once and turned toward me, but I don't think she knew I was there."
"There's nothing blocking her air passages." Paul looked at him. "Has she vomited?"
"No."
His friend leaned in close and sniffed. "Laudanum," the physician pronounced, confirming what he already knew. "We're going to have to get it out of her. At least as much as we can."
Paul was already reaching for his bag and what it contained. "I'll mix a concoction that will make Miss Menken empty her stomach. After that we need to get her on her feet and keep her on them. It's imperative we don't let her drift away." The doctor turned to his son. "Hoss, go ask someone to brew several pots of hot black coffee and bring them here."
"For Miss Menken?" his son asked.
Paul's lips curled in a tight smile. "Yes, and for your father and me. It's going to be a long night."
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Adam glanced up from what he was doing to look at their 'guest'. Temperance was watching them from the doorway with the eyes of a hawk. She still had the rifle in hand. Upon his arrival, he'd forced Joe to sit down at the table that occupied nearly half of the line shack's common room and taken off his boot and sock.
He didn't like what he saw.
Redness radiated out from both edges of the deep cut that ran the length of Joe's lower leg. The wound was hot to the touch and the limb, swollen. He'd noted as well that his brother's eyes were slightly glazed and Joe's cheeks were high in color.
"You should have said something earlier," Adam sighed as he rocked back on his heels.
"So you could do what?" Joe smiled triumphantly at his silence. "Face it, Adam. I just gotta ride it out."
'Ride it out' indeed. That was precisely what he needed his brother to do. The last thing he wanted to do was to take Joe back to Virginia City.
Where John C. Regan was waiting.
"Aren't you gonna argue with me or something?"
"No. You're right. We'll just…ride it out." Adam turned toward Temperance. "Did you find any whiskey?"
She shifted her grip on the rifle and held out a bottle. "How come your Pa stocks whiskey in his shacks?"
"For an emergency like this," the man in black responded shortly as he stood up. He hadn't taken a step when his brother's hand caught his arm.
"Adam. What's going on?"
He scowled. "What do you mean, 'what's going on'?"
Joe's jaw was thrust out. Never a good sign.
"First of all you don't argue with me when I tell you I'm fine, and now you agree to not going back to town even though it's pretty clear my leg's infected." His brother winced at the admission. "Might become infected."
He touched Joe's forehead. "Your fever's higher."
"So what? It's also clear that you won't take me back and I want to know why!"
"Don't be ridiculous."
Joe turned toward Temperance.
"Am I being ridiculous?"
She shrugged.
"See? Temperance agrees with me."
"I didn't say I agreed with you."
"Well, you didn't say you didn't!"
Adam held up a hand. "Kids. We've got enough trouble without the two of you sparring."
They'd decided between them that Temperance was close to Joe's age. Seventeen, maybe eighteen. Up close he'd been able to take a better account of her. She was fairly fit. Her teeth were straight and white, indicating she came from a decent family with some money. Her clothing, though obviously borrowed and worn to death, was store bought and well-made. His guess was that she'd found herself 'in the family way', and had either been turned out or run away. As he noted before, she had no ring, but then again that wasn't sure proof that she wasn't married.
It just meant she wasn't wearing a ring.
"I'm not being ridiculous!" Joe proclaimed as he rose to his feet. "You're hiding something and I want to know…what…."
The kid suddenly went green.
Adam was on his feet in a second. He caught his brother by the arms. "What's wrong?"
Little Joe swallowed. "Just feelin' sort of…sick…. Adam, you better…."
Joe pushed past him and headed for the door.
"I'm sorry," Temperance said as Joe disappeared into the night.
Adam turned to face her. "Beg pardon?"
"I thought you were lying. I didn't believe Joe was really sick." She hesitated, and then lowered the rifle and anchored it against the wall by the door. "You should go after him."
He could hear Joe retching outside. "So, we're okay then that Joe and I aren't a threat?"
"I don't know about that," she said, hedging.
"Temperance, we told you the truth. Our father owns this shack and we came here to make sure it was provisioned for winter. You have nothing to fear from us. In fact, we'll help you if you let us."
Her eyes, which he'd noted were an unusual shade of gray, moved to the open door. "You better check on your brother."
Five minutes later, when he returned to the shack with a very pale and trembling Little Joe on his arm, Adam was pleased to see that the rifle was still in the same spot and Temperance had lit the stove and put on a pot of coffee.
"I turned the bed down," she said. "I figured Joe would need it."
"Thank you", he said as he directed his less than stable brother toward the cot.
"I'm fixing some coffee. I figured you both might need that."
Adam nodded. With Joe sick, it looked like it might be a long night and he was already weary from the work and worry of the day. "I appreciate it. Thank you."
"I put a few blankets on the floor by the cot. You can sleep there. I'll sleep in the other room." The young woman paused. "I got my rifle, so don't you get any funny notions in your head."
"Temperance, please believe me when I say you are completely safe with us. As I told you before, our only 'notion' is to help you." He ran a hand over his stubbled chin. "You look like you could use a friend."
She blinked and sniffed. A second later a tear marked a clean trail down her dirty cheek. "I can take care of myself. You just mind your brother."
"How old are you?"
The question seemed to take her by surprise. "Twenty," she said.
He laughed. "Try again."
"Eighteen."
"Okay, we'll play it your way. Eighteen. That makes you a little older – but just as young – as baby brother."
"And I suppose you're ancient."
"At thirty, I feel ancient enough," he replied.
Temperance inclined her head toward the cot where Joe lay softly moaning. "You're worried about him."
He nodded. "He's got a nasty cut. Took it in a fall. I'll need to clean the wound again to see if I can get his fever down."
"I can help. I took care of my ma when she was sick. She…didn't make it."
"You live with your father then?"
"I did." She sniffed again, in dismissal this time. "'Til he kicked me out."
"I'm sorry."
She gave him an odd look. "I'm not. Coffee's ready. You want some?"
"That would be wonderful."
As Temperance headed for the stove, Adam headed for his brother. When he got to the cot he discovered that Joe's skin was dry. The color in his cheeks was higher, as was the fever.
"How are you feeling?" he asked as he sat down.
Joe ignored the question. He nodded his head feebly in Temperance's direction. "Did you find out anything else about her?"
"Only what we thought. Her mother's dead. Her father kicked her out, no doubt due to her condition." He frowned. "You didn't answer me."
"I'm okay, Adam. No need to worry. I don't know what happened. Must have been somethin' I ate."
He knew, but he let it go. "Get some sleep, little brother. Let's hope you feel better in the morning."
"I will. Hey, Adam?"
"Yeah?"
"I need you to be honest with me." Joe scooted up a bit in the bed. "What's going on? Why are we here? How come you don't want to go home?"
He considered the questions. "Joe, do you trust me?"
"That ain't fair, Adam."
"Nevertheless, do you?"
It took a second. "You know I do."
"It's for the best. That's all I can say."
"Pa thinks the same?"
He nodded.
Joe leaned back and closed his eyes. "The two of you are always treating me like a kid."
No, Adam thought as he pulled the thin blanket up over his brother's shoulders.
The two of us are always trying to keep you alive.
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