BEFORE:

Adam arrived in Carson City only to find it was not quite far enough away from home to escape the darkness of his mood.

Procuring a room at the hotel, he skipped dinner and spent a restless night alone. Waking early, he made his way to the first-floor dining room and ate breakfast at a leisurely pace, taking time to sip his coffee as he covertly watched the other hotel guests trickle in for the morning meal. It was a sparse group; nothing about any of them was glaring or notable. None of them were a satisfactory distraction from his thoughts.

The distance had ebbed some of the frustration he felt toward his father, but it had done nothing to soothe the building discontent he felt with himself. He was angry about the way he had been acting as of late, stomping around the territory like a slighted teen rather than a man of the age he was. He regretted some of his recent behavior, especially his actions where his father and Peggy were concerned.

Anger and regret were such hindering emotions, downright useless from Pa's point of view. They had a way of obscuring intentions, making situations worse rather than better. His father was right—as much as he did not want to admit it. He had no right to keep Peggy in his company, using her discontent as a distraction from his own. He was not her father. He could have been, but he was not. It was a decision he had to stand by; he needed to give Peggy proper berth, so she could come to understand it too.

It would not be easy, but it had to be done.

Though he and Peggy had not started out as friends, their bond had grown, becoming more deeply rooted than he could have ever imagined it would. She loved him and he adored her, both feelings that were no longer acceptable with how things had changed. He did not want Laura as his wife; he did not love her. He still knew both things for certain. It had not hurt to let her go; it did not bother him to see her with Will. But letting go of Peggy was never destined to be easy, and the thought of losing her, of entrusting her wellbeing and happiness, to Will hurt.

Oh, lord, it hurt. The pain was so much deeper and intense than he could have imagined it would be. He had not known he could care for someone as much as he did that little girl. He had never expected to feel how he did—or for his feelings to linger, making continuing life as he had known it before his engagement to Laura near impossible. These were things he did not want to think about and would not dare voice. There was little point to either. The past could not be changed now.

Will had married Laura and become Peggy's father figure. Adam knew his own father was right: it was time for him to step away, if not for his own benefit than for Peggy's. He of all people knew how difficult it was to accept a parent that had been unwanted. He himself had never really accepted Marie as his mother. It was quite possibly the only other thing capable of filling him with as much pain and regret as the thought of stepping out of Peggy's life.

Marie was the mother he never wanted; this was a fact that as a boy he had made abundantly clear. There was no one in his immediate family that was unaware of this knowledge, save for Joe, because he had been much too small to truly remember how things had been when Marie was alive. Adam was certain Hoss remembered this tumultuous time as did their father, though the night before was the first time any direct mention of it had been made. It was stinging to realize such a thing, almost as painful to recall as it had been to endure.

He was not particularly hurt or angry at his father for saying what he had, for likening Peggy's difficulty with accepting Will to Adam's difficulty with Marie. After all, he had acted how he had. Though it was a shame to admit or consider, he could not deny his past behavior, as poor as it was. And he had acted so poorly back then. He had been older than Peggy was now, a fact that within itself declared he should have known better.

Oh, Lord, he was so mean to Marie. He had told her repeatedly he'd never love her, acting on a juvenile belief that if he was cruel enough to her then she would decide to leave or somehow magically disappear. He would not even like her, he had threatened. He had vowed to hate her forever instead; it was a promise he had held true to. Forever had come a lot sooner than anyone could have thought possible; her death had been unexpected and abrupt, yet another event in his life that had hurt more deeply than he could have predicted.

Sadly, he would not come to appreciate the stability of Marie's kindness and patience until after she was gone. It was only then when he would fully realize his determination not to feel anything for her had not prevented either of them from caring for one another. He knew she had loved him because she had taken great care in telling him so. And he knew he had loved her, because of how bad losing her had felt.

Only becoming aware of his true feelings for someone once they were gone would come to be an ongoing dispiriting theme in his life. It was a strange thing for one to acknowledge or note about themselves. He would never be certain if he had always been this way, or if it was a convention developed in reaction to something. Perhaps it was a coping mechanism of some sort, developed in his early life to help him contend with the ceaseless, often frightening malleability of his surroundings. Either way, it was a rule that did not come without exceptions.

Laura was an exception to this rule. The day she had been run down by The Bonner Brother's horses in Virginia City would be the first time in his life Adam had experienced a pseudo-emotion, a sense of familiarity masquerading as genuine fondness that had felt so much like the feelings he had for the others he had lost that he had confused it for romantic love.

Together Adam's father, his brothers, and grandfather formed a small collection of people who were also exceptions to the rule. He had not yet lost any of them. Still, he knew with undying certainty how much he loved them. Maybe under different circumstances, it would have been nice to add Peggy to this list. But it was not to be. The realization of how much he loved her had only come when he began to grasp the reality that he could no longer be a part of her life.

And, suddenly, just like that, there it was. The true feeling cloaked in sadness his father wanted so badly for him to admit, if not out loud to be heard by others than at least silently to himself as a thought in his own head. He was upset over the way things had turned out.

He had gladly given Laura away, but his grip on Peggy was not so easily relinquished. He loved her; it was the deepness of this love that made letting her go a nearly impossible task. There was nothing to be done to change how he felt, or take back what had been done. He had not married her mother. Someone else had, and now there was no place for him in her life; nowhere he could fit where he would not become a troublesome influence.

There was just no changing the truth.

Peggy would never accept Will if Adam remained so close. She would never learn to embrace the way things were while being so constantly reminded of how they could have been. This was a struggle Adam could understand more than most, because it was just as his father had said: he had experienced his own difficulties accepting Marie into the family. It was his memories of Inger that had prevented him from embracing his second step-mother. Maybe if he had not loved her so deeply, or known her at all, then he would have been able to accept Marie's kindness. Or perhaps it was the pain of losing one stepmother that had left him determined not to allow himself to care for another. Or maybe it was something else completely.

With regards to Peggy, maybe if Laura was a better mother, if she would have looked after her daughter with more care than she did, then Adam would feel differently about things than he did. Maybe he would have been more comfortable, more confident in Will and Laura's abilities as parents. But he was not.

After the death of his own father, Will had spent the entirety of his adult life lying and wandering. He was a rambler; a man who was accustomed to living by himself and for himself. He cared little how his actions impacted those around him. While he appeared to be an exuberant and charismatic companion upon first meeting, the passing of time had a way of exposing his faults. He was a teller of great adventurous stories; in the reality of his daily life, he struggled with commitment and follow-through. He was arrogant and selfish; a poor candidate for a husband and a worse choice for a father.

That was not to say Laura was a better person, or parent. She was not.

When Frank was alive, she seemed to have more interest in her daughter than she did after his death. Losing him had changed her, awakening a treasure-trove of unspoken neurosis and anxieties. She had once told Adam that Peggy did not love her; she had said her daughter only loved her father. She had said the same about Frank, sharing that he in return had only cared for his daughter. This was a suspicion that was eventually verified by a woman from San Francisco who shared with Adam the nature of her clandestine relationship with Frank and a letter that Laura had written. The contents of this letter had been furious and childish, both things Adam had dismissed at the time, because, well, if a man cheated on his wife and his wife was wise enough to suspect such a thing, then she was obliged to write whatever cruel things she wanted to. And besides, there were more important things to be dealt with at the time. Like the increasingly unkempt condition of the Running D Ranch and the little girl who knew her father was dead but whose mother would not verify the painful knowledge directly.

It was Adam who had forced Laura to tell Peggy the truth. It was he who had spent countless hours working the Running D, fixing all that had been neglected, breathing life back into the business and securing Laura and Peggy's financial livelihood. It was he who had gifted Peggy Traveler and helped her teach the pony the seemingly endless list of tricks she wanted him to learn. He was the one who had gone to war with Aunt Lil when she was visiting, embarking on a conversation about Peggy's education.

Peggy had not attended school since before Frank's accident; Laura had kept her daughter home. This was a decision that was first meant to preserve the lie about her father's death, no doubt. After the truth had finally been shared, however, Peggy's absence from school continued. Adam remained silent on the topic for as long as he could. It was not until Aunt Lil arrived that the truth about Peggy's educational future was fully revealed.

Peggy was not in school because she did not need to be, that was what Aunt Lil had said, finally giving a firm voice to Laura's silence on the matter. She knew how to read and write and that was sufficient for what her future would entail. She was a little girl, not a little boy. She did not have further need for the things that would be taught in a schoolhouse. Her education would be obtained elsewhere. First at home by watching her mother, and then later at a finishing school where she would learn the skills to integrate herself into polite society in order to find a suitable husband.

Upon hearing this explanation, Adam had been appalled. Peggy was such an inquisitive, intelligent child. She had a curious mind, always hungering for further explanations, always testing theories. She had learned how to do a Cat's Cradle without being taught, rather it was something she had believed she had thought up on her own and then experimented with the execution until she was successful. She had a way of looking at things that when shared made her seem much older than her years. She devoured the books Adam had given her to read, and then asked such calculated and thoughtful questions about them that he was often rendered speechless.

She was astute and downright brilliant. It was not right to keep her away from school, to sentence her to a life that would be as ordinary as the farmhouse in which she lived. She deserved everything she could achieve. Now Adam feared that with Will and Laura as her parents, she would not be given proper opportunities to grow her mind. Her capabilities would not be acknowledged or noted. She would not be considered at all.

They don't listen like you do; the memory of Peggy's despondent claim sprung to the forefront of Adam's mind as he moved his absent gaze among the strangers sitting at the surrounding tables. They don't even try.

Inhaling a deep breath, Adam reached for his coffee cup, his memories of the past lingering too closely to be ignored. In the end, he had won the debate about Peggy's schooling with Aunt Lil only after he and Laura had become engaged. It was a victory that now seemed destined to be expropriated as there was nothing he could say or do to influence Peggy's future. He had stepped away from Laura and in doing so, he had deferred Peggy's care to Will.

Injudicious, insouciant Will who didn't take the time to listen to his newly acquired daughter. It was he who didn't seem wildly concerned about anything at all. It was he who embellished the truth about the past in order to conceal his own misdeeds. It was he who…

Frowning, Adam pulled the coffee cup away from his lips, nearly dropping it on the table as caught and held the gaze of a newcomer who was quickly approaching his table. It was Will who was suddenly right before him, coffee cup and full breakfast plate in hand, looking down at him from where he stood.

"Is this seat taken?" Will asked, nodding at the chair.

"Are you following me?" Adam asked, his frown deepening with his voice. It was a foolish question, so frivolous in his fight to conceal his thoughts and contain his mood.

Will chuckled. "No," he said.

"Then what are you doing here?"

"Same thing you are. It's breakfast time. How about that chair?"

Adam looked between his cousin and the chair. "It's a free territory," he said. "I don't give a shit where you sit."

"Wow." Will's eyebrows rose, his eyes glistening with genuine shock as he placed his plate on the table and sat. "You're so proper around your pa; I didn't think you knew any big boy words."

Adam took a sip of his coffee and a moment to think of a proper retort. "Don't you have a wife who cooks your meals?"

"Sure do."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"Eating breakfast. That gal of mine, she's a hell of a cook, but I suppose you know that. She's just about the ficklest woman ever placed upon this earth. I suppose you know that, too."

Frown giving way to a smile, Adam could not help the chuckle that escaped his throat. "What happened, Will? Were you late for dinner and she decided to lock you out of the house?" he asked.

"Nope," Will said, speaking in between mouthfuls. "I decided to take the space on my own."

"Sure, you did."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"What brings you here? Don't tell me you were in search of a better breakfast than what Hop Sing cooks. Take it from me, pal, it doesn't exist. Laura may be a good cook, but he's better. Of course, you know that."

Adam was skeptical of both the question and what was subsequently said. What was the point of drawing attention to the things they both knew about Laura? Of suddenly finding himself in his cousin's company? The timing of it was too perfect to be coincidental. The way Will was appraising him was too strange to be without meaning.

"What brings me here is none of your concern," Adam said. "I'm not the one who isn't where he should be."

"Oh, I doubt that. You tell your pa where you were headed? Or how long you'd be gone? He's not going to be too happy if you up and left."

"My father doesn't dictate what I do."

Casting Adam a cynical look, Will took another bite of his breakfast. "You sure about that?" he asked. "Because, outside looking in, it sure doesn't seem like it. It's obvious he likes to keep you under his thumb. That's gotta be annoying, right? A man your age still following his pa's instruction. I mean, we obviously had very different fathers, but I know how I'd feel if I had a father who tried to govern my life like yours does."

The statements smarted more than they should have been allowed to. More than they would have under different circumstances had things with Pa not been quite so tense. Had Pa and Will not discussed his friendship with Peggy behind his back. As it stood, Will's observation reignited Adam's frustration and left him seething.

"I wonder how that happens," Will continued thoughtfully. "How two brothers who come from the same family can grow to be so different. I mean, they're both fine men, your pa and mine, just very different from each other. If my father would have lived long enough for you to really get to know him then maybe you'd think differently of me. Maybe you'd understand me as well as I think I understand you. Man, it has got to be so frustrating, right? To have your pa stick his nose in your business. To have your own livelihood so intertwined with your father's successes."

"Why are you here?" Adam demanded.

"I already told you, I'm taking some space aw— "

"Bullshit. There are countless places you could go if that's what you were up to. Instead, you end up sitting across from me, comparing our fathers of all things."

Abandoning his fork on his plate, Will pushed it aside and pulled his coffee cup over to rest in its place. Hands curled around it, he stared Adam down. "You don't like me," he said bluntly. "That's fine. I don't like you much either. Of course, our mutual feelings don't really have a lot of bearing on how things are. I have the woman you didn't want, and I'm raising the daughter that you did."

"You're here to talk about Peggy," Adam deduced.

"I am. Seeing how you two are so close, I suppose she told you what she's upset about. I guess, there really is no use in dancing around the topic. Laura's with child. Her condition has been difficult. For her safety and that of the baby, Doc has ordered her to rest, something which Peggy has not made easy."

Adam's expression softened slightly. "It can be difficult for older children brought into a new marriage to accept the inevitability of siblings," he said.

"It can be," Will agreed. "Although you'd really know more about that than I would. I talked to your father when Peggy went missing, or rather, I guess, he talked to me. I want you to know I didn't go looking for the conversation he and I had."

"I'm sure."

"He asked me to tell you to keep away from Peggy, you know. He told me to tell you to give her time to adjust. He thinks this understanding, this friendship that the two you have, is a bad thing. He believes it's making things worse."

"For Peggy."

"And for you. You know, things aren't exactly easy for any of us right now. Most people have their opinions on what happened between you, Laura, and I. They don't understand what we do."

"Which is what?"

"That things are better this way. There was no point in you and Laura marrying each other out of misplaced duty or desperation. It was better for you to stand aside and allow her and I to be together, because our feelings are genuine. I understand that, and so do you. I think someday maybe Peggy will be old enough to understand it too. As for right now, this change that's coming is bound to make things a whole lot harder, at least for a while. When that baby arrives, we're all going to have to make peace with the way things are, how they're different from what we once thought they would be. Peggy's having a difficult time with that now. I can't imagine seeing the baby is going to make it any easier. I know you love her, and I know she loves you too."

"You came all this way to tell me to stay away from Peggy?" Adam snorted. "Jesus, Will. You should have saved yourself the trip."

"No." Finishing his coffee, Will placed the mug next to his plate. "I came here to tell you not to stay away from her. You're a great comfort to Peggy. I don't see the point of asking you to keep away from her, and I don't think she'd take too kindly to me telling her to keep away from you. She probably wouldn't follow a direction like that anyway, at least not from me. Y'all are close. You know, a lesser man might just find himself jealous of that."

"But you're not?"

"It is what it is. Like I said, the two of you have a friendship and an understanding. You care about each other. I don't have any interest in putting an end to that, and I don't care enough about the opinions of others, your father's or otherwise, to put an end to what some might perceive as a friendship rendered inappropriate by a grown woman changing her mind about who she loved. And, besides all that, you're a little too old to be taking orders from your father, don't you think?"

Pushing his chair back, Will stood and strode away from the table and out of the room, the bottoms of his boots seeming to echo around the room despite the chatter of the other guests.

TBC