In the first story, I used Townsville as the place they could visit to buy supplies, etc. Well, my geography was off so instead of Townsville, I am now using a town called Barakula – it is in the correct geographical direction.

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Book 2

1

December 26, 1869

Käraste Far,

I regret having taken so long to write home but please know I am well as is Adam. We have a small house in the area of Queensland on quite a few acres and good friends in Mr. and Mrs. Morgan who live nearby. Each morn as I rise to take on the day's work, I think of the stories you told me about traveling to America with my mother to whom you had been betrothed since a young boy; I know how hard it has been for me to leave you and all I knew behind, so I can only imagine the difficulties the two of you faced. Together, you started a life in the wilderness of Nevada. I then realize I should not complain of any burden I may bear as this is the life I chose for myself.

Do not take that to mean I am unhappy ~ I am not. It is only that I am often overwhelmed by how much there is to be done on a farm, but I also have the help of a young Aboriginal woman name Nama who does the laundry and in return, she would rather have a jug of fresh milk or a plump chicken than money. She knows much about herbs and roots and is teaching me the ways of healing. I have also learned, through the patient lessons given by my husband, how to milk a cow. Madrigal, Mrs. Morgan, taught me how to skim the cream and from taking my turn at the churn back home, under Mrs. Hellström's guidance, I make butter. I am becoming a good housewife so please let Mrs. Hellström know that I have put to use all she has taught me about hushållning although I will never be as capable as she.

Our sea voyage was pleasant enough although I found that I am sensitive to the motion of the ship and was ill for a bit. The only unfortunate incident was that I was slightly injured when The Alliance, our ship, stopped to allow the crew to go ashore to gather fruit and fresh meat. Adam and I went ashore as well. There are feral hogs on the island and I was injured by one but the ship's doctor, Dr. Beaumont, took very good care of me and I am well recovered. Adam shot the beast and the crew of the ship was much happy with the additional fresh pork.

Unfortunately, when Adam traveled to Dalby to file the papers for the property and the silver mine, he caught a fever which ran for a few days but he quickly recovered, I am pleased to report, with no aftereffects.

I hope your Christmas was joyous and the new year will find you and Mrs. Hellström well. Give her my fondest regards. I pray for you both every day and send my wishes for happiness and prosperity. Our Christmas was happy and we shared a feast with our friends at their home. They slaughtered one of their hogs and roasted it on a spit in the yard. I made two lilly pilly berry pies and cooked a large amount of green beans from my own garden. I also baked a loaf of bread and we had honey from a hive Adam found. Adam brought bourbon he had dearly purchased in Dalby when he was there on business. Anything that is imported ~ and that is almost everything ~ is high in price. Adam and Caleb Morgan brought the table and chairs outside and we ate under the trees and the open sky, lighting candles as the late afternoon drifted into early evening. Under the stars, Adam played his guitar and we sang carols, some so tender they brought me to tears at the memory of home and the many Christmases we celebrated. But Adam and I and our friends, toasted the blessed day of our Lord's birth and also each other and those we loved we had left behind. I must say I missed snow as it was warm here as Christmas is celebrated during Australia's summer.

Although our small house serves our needs, Adam is working on plans for a larger home and has ordered material. Our friends, the Morgans, are also considering building a proper home as well. Adam's intention is to design a house in such a manner that extra rooms may be added as needed. It is difficult to have building supplies delivered this far out and according to Adam, there are not many proper trees for building homes and even if there were, there is the matter of cutting. Also, there is no sawmill nearby. I understand the limits of building a house here similar to those in Virginia City or on the Ponderosa. But along with the ordered bricks and wood, there are stones of various shapes and sizes and Adam has collected many. We have a great pile of them about fifty yards away from the site of our future home. I have asked Adam not to concern himself with any immediacy of building a home as I feel he is trying to do far too much. I have suggested he hire a man to help about the farm but he seems averse to the idea. But Adam will be 40 years old this coming year and he often complains of aches.

I ask one thing of you, min far, and that is please share the contents of this letter with Mr. Cartwright. Inform him that Adam will write soon but as I said, he works very hard and is often so worn that he retires after dinner. He cannot even find the time to read his beloved books but I am hoping things will soon become easier for him. Adam sends much love to his father and brothers.

Min far, I know you had reservations about my taking Adam as my husband but he has shown himself to be kind and good. I care for him more with every passing day.

I must now close my letter as it is very late and my eyes grow weary. I will write again soon. With this letter, I send my great affection and the respect you deserve for all you have done for me. I do not know quite how long it takes for a letter to travel from here to Nevada but there is a store in Barakula, a nearby town, which also serves as post office. Once every two weeks, the mail from Barakula that is destined for delivery by ship, is accepted by a rider who delivers it to Brisbane where it is sorted and then loaded on ships, one of them to make its way to San Francisco. From there it is delivered to Nevada. As you can see, it is a rather convoluted process to mail a letter or receive one.

But rest assured that all is well with me and with Adam. If you choose to write, and I hope you do as I long for word, Adam wrote the return address and said it will guarantee any mail addressed such will reach us.

Din hängivna dotter, Sigrid

Ben Cartwright, overwhelmed with a mixture of relief and new-found worries, held the letter with shaky hands and looked at it again. Adam was well and so was Sigrid. It had been over five months since they had left for Australia and this was the first word he had of them. Almost half of a year. Although the letter was a comfort, it was dated the end of December. Had anything happened to Adam, to Sigrid, in the interim? Would it take another six months for him to know?

"Alvar, is Sigrid one to understate anything, to try to make things sound better than they really are to spare you any grief?"

"What is it you are asking me, Ben?" Alvar's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Do you know something about Adam I do not? Are you asking if min dotter is unhappy with Adam, that he is actually a bad husband, but to me, her father, she says he is a good one? Do you think your son beats her?"

"No - nothing like that. I know my son and he wouldn't mistreat any woman, especially not his wife. I was thinking of Adam's illness as well as Sigrid's injury – I just wondered if she is telling the whole truth. It seems she is worried about Adam and his working too hard and …"

"You think my Sigrid is a liar?" Alvar's face flamed with anger.

"No, of course not. That wasn't what I meant at all." Ben realized he was only making matters worse between the two of them; he needed Alvar's good will. "Thank you, Alvar, for bringing over the letter." Ben disliked being beholden to Alvar Eklund but it had been a kindness for him to ride to the Ponderosa as Sigrid had asked. "May I keep it for a few days for Hoss and Joseph to read? They've been looking at prime stock near Sweetwater but should be back in another week, and I promise to return it to you after they've read it."

"No. It was my dutiful daughter who wrote and the letter is addressed to me. I shall take it with me. You can tell your sons about their brother." Alvar stood up from the settee where he had sat, and put out his hand.

"Alvar, I just want to…." Ben couldn't bring himself to part from the only news he had received about Adam. He wanted to read it over and over, see his son's name written in Sigrid's elegant script. "When I receive a letter from Adam, I'll allow you to keep it for a few days." Ben realized he was bargaining with Alvar, using the love of their separate children as the stake.

Alvar said nothing, just stood with his hand out.

"All right. Just let me write down the address. I want to write them…both." Alvar nodded and dropped his hand, watching as Ben walked over to his desk, pulled out paper and copied down Mr. , c/o Morgan-Cartwright Mining Co., Barakula P.O., Queensland, Australia. Then he slipped the letter back into the envelope, walked to Alvar and handed it over.

Alvar slipped the letter in his jacket pocket. "Goodnight, Ben." He put his hat on and as he reached the large front door, Ben called out to him.

"Alvar, why is it you dislike my son so? He's never done you harm."

Alvar slowly turned. "He took away Sigrid. That is enough."

"You've disliked him since he was a boy working the bellows in the smithy and I've never understood it; Adam rarely ever spoke so if he offended you with his silence…"

Alvar stepped further into the room, breathing heavily. "His silence. No, not his silence, his superiority. Your boy, Ben, missed nothing and he judged what he saw, judged me. Every time I looked at him, I saw it in his gaze, as if he is one to judge others.

"And then he came into my home, he with his strong hand in a soft glove, and took min dotter, my Sigrid, away from me, all she knew and now she lives in a state of drudgery, of wifely obedience to him! Not even in the church were they married! He has shamed her and shamed me!"

"Alvar, you just had a letter from her. Sigrid had nothing unkind to say about Adam. If he wasn't treating her well, she would have told you – at least hinted at it and not asked you to share the letter with me. But she told you Adam was a good husband." Suddenly Ben knew. "Oh, I see. You really hate Adam because he was there when you led the mob to string up that man who you claim assaulted your wife. That's it, isn't it? He saw you at your worst and you fear he may tell Sigrid about it, about how you led the murderous mob."

Alvar's chest heaved. "I have no regret over what I did. None. And if Adam is so spiteful as to work my daughter against me, then may his soul be damned!" Alvar stormed out of the house and pulled the large door shut behind him.

Ben dropped down on the settee. He had gone too far. He knew that whether Sigrid asked her father to share another letter or not, Alvar would not. Not now. He sighed deeply. The night was mild for March, not necessarily a good sign as it may predict an unusually hot summer. But the fireplace flamed up as if matching Ben's anger, and Ben felt the heat on his already hot face. Suddenly he felt a sharp pain of loneliness – of emptiness. There was not another voice in the house. Hop Sing had left for Chinatown, ostensibly to visit his relatives, but was, in all probability, playing fan tan and losing his month's pay. Hoss was gone to Sweetwater with Joseph, and over a year ago, Joe had moved his wife and first daughter, Daisy, into the house he had built on the edge of a huge open area, the tall pines standing behind their home. And Adam – oh, how he missed his eldest.

If only, Ben thought, he and Alvar could be friends since they were now joined by their children's marriage. They could have sat and sipped coffee and eaten a slice of Hop Sing's lemon cream cake and talked about…what? About Adam and Sigrid and the aching loss for them both. But they weren't friends.

Ben stood up and slowly walked to the door and threw the bolt. In the morning - yes, in the morning he would ride over to Joseph's and Marianne's and visit with Daisy, the plump-cheeked, curly-haired toddler, and the new baby, Marigold, whose fuzz of hair was as yellow as a canary's wings. He would hold them and fuss over them and Marianne would indulge her father-in-law and invite him to stay for lunch and perhaps, even dinner. Yes, Ben decided, that's what he would do. And then he went about turning down lamps and securing the ranch house for the night. But when it came to the lamp on his desk, he paused. He sat down and pulled out paper and picking up his pen, he dipped it in the ink and dated the letter –

March 19, 1870.

My Dear Sigrid and Adam,

How happy I was to read your letter this evening….

~ 0 ~

Adam sat on the front porch. Sigrid had gone to bed over an hour ago. He was too tired to read or play a game of solitaire and sleep eluded him, so he sat on the top porch step, looking out over the property – Cartwright property. The night was cold so he had slipped on his trail coat before walking into the night air.

"I know you don't like to be alone and I don't like it either so I've hired one of the older miners, Daere Goron, to stay here. He's a Cornish miner, stubborn and hard-working and honest. He was injured on the job so I was going to pay him half wages until he recovered but he refused. So he can earn full wages doing small things around here – whatever you set him to. And you have Nama coming during the day so you won't be alone. I'll leave the older rifle here and you have the .22 – just don't sleep with it under your pillow – liable to blow your head off."

Sigrid ignored the comment. Adam stood behind her as she dried the dishes. "But over a week, Adam. It's only taken three – four days before to go to Dalby and return. And your birthday is in 2 days. I had planned a small party – just us and the Morgans."

"Sigrid, my birthday celebration can wait – I don't need one anyway; it'll just remind me how old I am. And I told you about this trip at least a month ago."

"You said you would be going but didn't say when. Now you tell me just when I was…" Sigrid stopped. Adam had ruined all her plans and she was angry with Caleb Morgan as well. He should have said something to Adam about the party, told him not to leave quite yet for Dalby.

"I'm taking two other men along and we're using the larger wagon from the mine and four horses. The machinery is important. How can I make you see that? It's heavy and expensive so coming back will be slow-going. We have to be careful with it. I wish you wouldn't complain about things that have to be done."

"Yes, I know, Adam, I know how you feel about all that, and I made up my mind months ago that I wouldn't say a thing about you going away on business for the mine, but this is your birthday and I should have been consulted. And, no, I'm not complaining…."

"It sure as hell sounds like you are." Adam walked out and sat in the big chair, picking up his book off the floor beside it. All day he had dreaded giving Sigrid the news he would be gone and chastised himself for being a coward. The kitchen lamp went dark and then Sigrid walked past Adam as he stared at the pages of the book, the words basically a blur, and went up to the loft. Adam glanced after her and then closed his eyes, resting his head against the back of the chair.

All the day's troubles circled in his mind – the lack of proper timber for shoring in the silver mine. Quite a few Cornish miners had emigrated to Australia and many of the older ones knew quite a bit about mining, as much as he, and a few, maybe more. And one of them, their chosen spokesman had said, "We dasn't delve in a mine that might easily crumble about our ears should one of us sneeze."

Faced with their stiff, defiant faces, Adam wanted to knock them down, beat their faces with his fists, and rage at them that he was doing all he could to ensure safety and they could delve their way to hell. But the worst was when one of the miners, a man who looked many years older than Adam with his heavily lined face and stooped posture, stated that as old as Adam was, he could well understand that the few years he other miners had left were all the more valuable; they would take no chances for another's enrichment. Adam had sucked in his breath and told them to go to the copper mine and work there until he had the proper timbering. Never before had he faced the end of his years in that manner. How many years did he have ahead of him? Ten? Twenty? And he was facing his fortieth birthday. His father was in his 60's but that was no assurance that he would live as long.

Adam's eyes opened. He heard Sigrid's muffled sobs from the loft. He considered ignoring her but the more she cried, the angrier he became. He climbed up to the loft and paused on the last step – damn the low ceiling.

"Sigrid, please stop crying. You know I can't bear your tears. I have to go tomorrow and that's all there is to it. Can't you make it easier for me?"

"Of course, Adam. I'll make it easier for you – everything should be easy for you." And she became quiet and still. In disgust, he climbed back down.

He heard the door open behind him and sensed Sigrid standing to his right.

"Adam, when are you coming to bed?"

"Soon."

She crouched down beside him and from the corner of his eye, he saw the over-sized shawl she had bought from Mr. Naples. Adam had asked her why she hadn't just knitted herself one and she said because the fabric of the shawl was so soft and lovely – a flowered challis – that she wanted it; the colors would go with almost everything and when she wasn't wearing it, it could decorate the settee.

"I'm sorry, Adam, about the way … the way I behaved. It's just that…actually, I have no excuse."

"It's cold, Sigrid. Go back inside."

"I wish you'd come with me."

"You know," Adam said almost wistfully, "I was thinking that right now, I'd like nothing more than a good cigar and a glass of whiskey. Makes me wish I was back in Virginia City playing poker and drinking in The Bucket of Blood – no troubles except what the next deal of the cards held."

"Why? Is it because of me?"

Adam snorted in disgust. "No, Sigrid, it's not you, it's just that there's always something to be done around here. I started the fence and the posts are still piled where I stopped weeks ago. I've cleared away most of the saplings in the yard but there are still more needing to be pulled up – they creep in and I swear those rocks crawl out the ground just to devil me. And as for the trip tomorrow, well, that machinery waiting in Dalby is necessary for the copper mine – I have to go. And then we've made little progress on the silver mine – have hit some pockets and it looks like good ore, but I don't know about going forward in the tunnel or downward – I need to take some samples to the assay office in Dalby. If we go straight down and make a shaft, we need a miner's cage to raise and lower the men. All their lives are in my hands – it's a sacred trust.

"I don't like leaving you alone for such so many days, Sigrid. I understand you being upset but…"

"I'm sorry, Adam, that I cried and made you feel bad. I really am." She sat down beside him on the steps, pulling her shawl closer about her, slipping one arm through his and leaning her head against his arm.

"You always are. And so am I. Oh, Sigrid, I thought I could do all this but I'm finding I can't. There's just so much. I work around here in the early mornings and the mines all day and when I get home, I'm too tired to even carry on a decent conversation or make love to my wife. And my back aches after a day lifting heavy ore buckets and manning a star drill and sledge. And some of the Cornish miners who've come here, most of them are older than me and they work all day, only stopping for lunch. I don't know how they manage.

"I want to buy a manual rock drill – I've seen them before and it would help if I could get my hands on at least two. Then I wouldn't have to do so much hammering by hand."

"What are they for – the rock drills?"

"Boring holes for dynamite."

"Dynamite? I'd think you wouldn't want an explosion in a mine." Sigrid looked at him in surprise – and was more surprised when he smacked her cheek. She stared open-mouthed, her hand flying to the spot.

"Sorry, sweetheart – it was a mosquito." He wiped her cheek with his thumb and then ran it along his thigh.

"Yes," Sigrid said, wiping her cheek herself. "I'm sure it was – but it's a good way to take out your anger, isn't it?"

"I wouldn't…oh, there's another!" He lightly tapped her head. "And look – one there too!" Teasing, he smacked her leg and then her arm, landed a light tap on her forehead, claiming she was covered in mosquitos. Her hands flew about trying to fend off his light touches.

"Enough!" Sigrid said, standing up. "You're not very funny! I think I'll take myself inside before I'm carried off by a swarm of hungry mozzies!"

Chuckling, Adam turned back to the open area in front of him while she slammed the door. Then he heard the bolt shoot home. "That little bitch," Adam muttered as he tried the door. Although the handle turned in his hand, he was still locked out. He jiggled the handle. "Sigrid! Open the door." He waited but there was no sound from inside. Adam could picture Sigrid smugly sitting in her rocking chair, giggling because he was barred from entering.

Adam stepped back and considered. He had replaced both the kitchen and front doors with heavier, solid doors and attached forged iron bolts to secure the house when Sigrid was left alone; she could lock the house from the outside with the key, but the bolt added extra security. There was no putting a shoulder to the door or kicking it in. He furiously pounded on it with a fist. "Sigrid, open this goddamn door or I swear…" The bolt was slowly pulled back and Sigrid stood at the open door, looking smug.

"Oh, sorry, Adam. I suppose I fell victim to habit, threw the bolt without…" Her smile dropped away when she noticed his face; Adam was furious and Sigrid suddenly regretted her little joke. She backed into the room. "I'm sorry, Adam. I guess it wasn't very funny. But you're inside now. I'm sorry."

He kept approaching her and she felt fear for the first time; she had never before seen him this angry. "You locked me out of my own goddamn house! My own house!" He headed to the narrow closet. He opened the door and pulled his carpet bag off the top shelf.

"Where are you going?" Sigrid asked, her voice, a raw whisper. She realized she had gone too far – he wasn't leaving for Dalby until morning so why was he packing now? Adam stalked to the laddered stairs - Sigrid close behind him. "Where are you going, Adam?"

Adam swung about, his jaw clenched, his chest heaving. Sigrid feared he would strike her, backhand her and she would go flying and land against the wall. She stepped back.

With controlled fury, Adam said, "I'm going to the mine, if it's any of your goddamn business; I'm leaving in the morning anyway." Then he climbed up to the loft and Sigrid heard the bureau drawers pulled opened and then slammed shut. She watched as Adam came down with his bag, dropped it on the floor and pulled his rifle from the rack he had nailed over the mantle. He went into the kitchen and by the sounds, Sigrid knew he was getting ammo and some of their secreted money. Then he came out, threw his gun belt over one shoulder, picked up his saddle bags and tossed them over the other. After putting on his hat, he picked up his bag and rifle and opened the door. But before he left, he turned and snarled, "Don't forget to bolt the door."

Sigrid ran to the kitchen window to see Adam walking to the barn. The windows lit up from the lantern inside and within fifteen minutes, the light was doused and Adam was leading Zeus out. Once the barn door was secured, Adam mounted and rode off into the darkness. He would be back, Sigrid was sure. He was going to Dalby and by the time he was on his way home, he would have settled down and forgiven her for the small joke because that's all it was – a joke. But not really. Sigrid knew that just as his slapping invisible mosquitoes wasn't really a joke and neither was her throwing the bolt. He had still been angry with her and she, angry with him. He was going off and leaving her all alone with some old Cornish miner. And the more she thought about all her grievances against Adam, the angrier she became and the hot tears burned her eyes. The hell with him. She wouldn't let him bother her anymore.

And a conversation she had overheard between two women in Virginia City came to mind. At the time, Sigrid had been sitting on a bench outside the dress shop holding a box that contained her new dress and her first corset. The dress was a light green ditzy print with ecru lace about the collar and cuffs. Sigrid had wanted something fancier, the dress with a lower neckline and a ruffled flounce that drew attention to the bosom. Mrs. Hellström forbade it, emphasizing that Sigrid was only fifteen and far too young for such a style. So, Sigrid, pouting, was waiting while the housekeeper went to the mercantile with her itemized list. As Sigrid sat, two older women, their faces damp with sweat, smiled at the child and sat down beside her and began to discuss the unrelenting heat. They fanned themselves and then debated whether a cup of hot tea would only make them warmer in this weather or should they go to the confectionary and have a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Then the two oldest Cartwright sons rode in and dismounted in front of The Sazerac.

"Those Cartwright boys – drinking in the middle of the day!"

"Well, they won't be the only ones in there. How old is that Adam, anyway?"

"Must be 30 – 31. Old enough to be married, that's for certain."

"Yes. He should be married by now – married and starting his own brood. As handsome as he is, he's managed to slip the noose for quite a while. I know he was courting Phyllis Merrivale but that went nowhere. I do wonder why."

"I hear that he's not too easy to wrangle or as my husband would say, he refuses the bit."

"That might very well be the reason. Some men are just too hard to control and they're best let loose. But with all that Cartwright money and prestige, it might be worth it to just let him run the range while sitting at home."

Sigrid had pondered that conversation, but at the time, she hadn't quite understood. Now she did.