NOW:
"Rumor has it," Little Joe began then paused.
Standing a few paces away from his father, he leaned up against the corral gate and looked at Ben through the corners of his eyes. He seemed to be searching for something. A reason to continue the announcement he had begun, or abandon it completely.
Ben was unbothered by his son's hesitance. Returning from his solitary outing, he was determined to look more kindly upon Adam. It was a swift change in intention his younger sons remained uncertain of. Quick statements followed by long pauses had become predictable derivatives of conversations in which Adam was the subject, a development that Ben was not necessarily displeased about. Sometimes a warning was good. It allowed him to remind himself to ease off the approaching subject. To look upon whatever was being said without expressing anger, resentment, or any judgement at all.
"Rumor has it," Joe repeated as his gaze drifted, following that of his father and settling upon the horse and pony pair currently contained in the stall. "That Adam has someone coming in on the stage next week."
"Rumor," Ben said.
Joe tilted his head, his face contorting with quick regret. "Yeah," he said. "That's probably not a great word to say in connection to Adam. Given all the rumors that used to fly around town about him, and because what I know isn't really a rumor at all."
"Then why did you put it that way?"
"I don't know. I guess, I feel bad."
"For him?"
"For you."
Ben looked at Joe whose gaze remained set on the animals.
"I know Adam has someone coming," Joe explained. "Because he told me. I suppose it makes me feel bad that he would tell me something he hasn't shared with you. It seems wrong, somehow, to know how the two of you were once so close and to see how far apart you are from each other now."
"There's nothing wrong with the way things are now."
Joe was not convinced. "Isn't there?"
"It's Peggy," Ben said, his quiet tone not indicative of any opinion, rather the absence of one. "I don't need to speculate or wonder about who Adam could send for. Her arrival is the one Roy Coffee hinted to me about."
"What makes you think it's her?"
Ben shook his head. He had no intention of expanding upon thoughts that would only serve to dissolve his mood. It was the only logical thing to think. Surely, Adam had not taken Peggy away from Will and the Running D only to abandon her. Still, Ben did not want to think about it further, because he knew what considering such a thing would lead to. Adam had taken Peggy away from her home and then he had found himself a job that would not allow him to provide her a new one. He had become a marshal, a position that was not suitable for a man who had responsibilities to anyone other than himself.
"Hoss thinks it's Peggy, too," Joe said as he looked at the horse and pony in the corral. "That's why he went through the trouble of rounding up Sport and Traveler. With as much as she loved that pony, he thinks that maybe she'll want to see him again." He smiled. "You know, it really is funny."
"What is?"
Joe nodded at the animals. "The fondness Sport has for Traveler. I never knew that horse to be fond of anything or anybody. Well, except for Adam, I suppose. I remember when we brought those animals back from Carson City, how hard it was to get Sport to stay put, how he refused to be ridden by anyone. I think he knew before the rest of us that Adam wasn't coming back, and I think it was that knowledge that made him impossible to handle."
"The only thing that has ever been predictable about that animal is his unpredictable nature. I always thought he was a bad choice for a constant companion. He's too wild at heart; it was obvious by the way he shook his head, endlessly trying to dislodge his bridle so he could run. There's a part of him that won't ever be tamed."
"Oh, I don't know about that. It isn't so much that the animal isn't tame as it is that he doesn't trust easily. Adam was the only one Sport trusted. He was the only one who earned the right to call that animal his own. He put time into taming him; he got to know him well, what he liked, what he didn't like. He never wanted to break the wildness of Sport's spirit, rather he was more interested in finding a way for them to help each other. Adam needed a horse and Sport needed a man to see past his aggression. Adam was always so good at looking past the outside of something and seeing it for what it really was."
Ben wondered if they were no longer speaking about the relationship between Adam and his horse, rather the relationship between Adam and someone else. "I don't want to talk about Adam, Joe," he said.
"Good, because we're not talking about him, we're talking about his horse. Sport wasn't happy with us, Pa, so we set him free, remember?"
"Of course, I remember." With Adam gone, it was not a decision that had been made lightly or easily.
"We let Sport go. We gave that horse what we thought he needed, but we never expected him to need what we gave him in a different way." Joe grinned. "Boy, I remember the night Sport came back, the ruckus he caused with the other animals, and how shocked we all were when he busted Traveler out of the barn and the two of them took off running. It's funny," he repeated, his gaze finding his father's, "how a horse who we all thought too independent to truly care about anything, cared a great deal about a little pony. He loved Traveler enough to want him with him at any cost, and even now, he takes care of him. There isn't a single occasion I have come upon them out on the land that Sport isn't with Traveler. They are inseparable; the very best of friends."
Ben frowned. "It's not the same, Joe."
"What isn't?"
"You are trying to liken Adam and Peggy to Traveler and Sport. The fondness between people to the fondness between animals. Allowing Sport and Traveler to be together was not a crime."
"And Adam taking Peggy was? Pa, if I remember correctly, Will decided not to press charges against Adam for taking Peggy. In fact, I don't recall him being too concerned about it at all."
"Just because someone decides not to pursue someone for their wrongdoing that does not make them innocent. There is a right way to go about things and there is a wrong one. Adam kidnapped that little girl, Joe."
"Yes, but Will didn't care."
"Other people did."
"Who?" Joe snorted. "The busybodies in town? After the stories they spread about Adam and Laura, I don't believe their opinions should hold much weight."
"Adam's behavior prior to leaving didn't help that situation, or his reputation."
"The story Laura wrote in her diary didn't help," Joe corrected. "With the things people were saying' back then, I don't know how you can fault him for wanting to leave."
"I don't fault him for leaving."
"You don't accept that he did."
"It's not the fact that he left, Joe. It's how." Closing his mouth, Ben felt as though he had already said too much.
"Why?" Joe pressed. "Because he didn't ask you for permission? Or because he didn't come to you for help?"
"Neither."
"It has to be something. You were the one that taught me that the way we feel about others has more to do with how we feel about ourselves. You're not mad at Adam, not really. You're angry at yourself."
"I am not angry at anyone, not anymore."
"You're not happy."
"I am not unhappy."
"Then what are you?"
Shaking his head, Ben was no longer certain. He had decided to look upon his feelings toward Adam honestly. He had resigned himself to let go of the past. To give his oldest son the widest of berths until he felt like he could interact with him differently. Letting go of his frustration and anger, it had not taken long for new feelings to emerge. Sadness was beginning to overcome. Regret. A deep yearning for the past to have been different than it was. He and Adam had lost years. The time that had passed between them had changed the nature of their relationship; their respective emotions, as warranted or shamefully impetus as they were, had eroded the closeness they had once shared. Now there seemed to be so much to talk about, if only he could find the right words or tone of voice, the composure needed to prevent them from losing even more precious time. Until he found himself capable of such a thing, it was better to avoid Adam altogether.
"It's not that easy, Joe," Ben said.
"It's not that hard either. You're not the only one Adam walked out on when he left. Hoss and me, we lost him too. It isn't like he and I don't have feelings about what happened back then, it's just that… I suppose embracing the good is more important than holding on to the bad."
"Did Adam tell you what he's been doing? What his line of work has been?"
Joe's expression became guarded. "Yes," he carefully answered.
"You tell me how being raised by a man of such a profession is better than the life Will could have given Peggy, and I'll tell you how it's worse."
"Pa, Will was a drunk. He didn't know the first thing about having a family or staying put in one place."
"Neither did Adam."
"And, at one point, neither did you. Don't you see? You act like you and Adam are different but deep down you're the same. You left your family back East with your child in tow, setting out on a path with no foreseeable goal. You wanted to come out west, but you never said where. There was no predicting when or where you'd stop, or what you'd eventually find. Don't you think you made choices that were hard on your child? You of all people should know that the easiest path isn't always best."
"You have no idea what you're speaking about," Ben said calmly. "You have no concept of what made me make my decisions when I was young, decisions that benefited you greatly. You have no idea what challenges led me to become the man I am today."
"I know," Joe said bluntly. "And with regards to Adam, neither do you. But the reasons why don't really matter. What happened back then doesn't matter. What matters is how we choose to deal with each other now. You can avoid Adam as much as you want, but if it really is Peggy on that stage, how are you going to avoid her? How are you going to hide how you feel about Adam from her? And how are you going to explain that the life she has isn't the one you wanted for her?"
"I thought you knew it was Peggy who was coming on the stage," Ben said.
"No. I don't know. Adam didn't tell me anything other than he had someone coming. He asked me to ask you, if it would be alright if Jamie stayed in town after school and in his company a couple of days this week."
"If Adam has a request, he can make it himself."
"Making a request is a hard thing to do when the man you need to ask is avoiding you."
"I am not avoiding him."
"But you are. You disappeared into the wilderness for days only to emerge and avoid town completely. How is he supposed to ask if you never put yourself in a situation to see him again?"
"I haven't had a reason to go into town."
"Well, now you do," Joe said, his lips curling into a small, satisfied smile.
"What?"
"You need to go into town so that Adam can ask about Jamie. Shouldn't be a problem if you aren't avoiding it, or him."
"It's not a problem," Ben grunted stubbornly.
"If what you say is true, I don't see why it should be."
"It isn't."
"Good."
"Good."
Stalking away from the corral, Ben readying his horse for a trip he had not intended to take.
The ride into Virginia City seemed to take less time than he wanted it to, and more than once he was tempted to turn around. He kept steady upon the path he had begun, if not to prove a point to Joe than to prove one to himself.
With all the problems he could have cited about having a son who was a sheriff, there was at least one benefit. Adam had become an easy man to find. Entering town, he found his son in the first place he looked and the very same place he had last seen him, behind the front door of the sheriff's office.
Sitting on the front edge of his desk, Adam was holding his right wrist in his left hand, clenching and unclenching his fingers to form a tight fist that was quickly disbanded before being reformed. Judging by the fresh scratches on his quickly swelling knuckles the action was bound to be painful, though necessary to determine whether any broken bones were hiding beneath the skin.
Lifting his index finger, Ben pointed at Adam's injured hand, intent on asking what had taken place. Then, his gaze focusing on the blood seeping down the side of his son's face and the deepness of the cut on the side of Adam's forehead, he thought the question better left unasked.
"Yes," he said. Leaving his mouth impulsively, the word sounded as ill-thought as it was. In trying to silence his pressing question, he had failed to remain silent, it seemed.
Brows raising and eyes gleaming, Adam seemed as entertained by the sudden word as he was confused. "Yes," he affirmed as he clenched and unclenched his fist once more.
"The answer is yes," Ben said flatly, his face contorting sympathetically as he continued to look at the wound on Adam's face. Either his son had been hit with something hard and sharp, or he had been hit with enough force to knock him off his feet and on top of such an object. Assessing their surroundings, he found no obvious evidence of such a fight. Whatever had happened had not taken place here.
"Did I…?" Adam looked suddenly uncertain. "Ask you a question when you walked in?"
"No."
"Oh, that's good, because I didn't think I did."
Looking between Adam's hand and head, Ben stepped forward, his brows furrowing with concern as he closed the gap between them. "What happened?" he asked. It was odd how easily the tone came, how genuine, overwhelming, and familiar his concern was.
"I don't know that I'm actually sure." Emancipating his right wrist from his left hand, Adam held his injured hand high, a silent representation of something unknown. Lips curling into an exasperated grin, he emitted a deep chuckle, his hand falling to rest on his lap as his gaze drifted to the door separating the small office from the room which contained the jail cells. "Ah, shit. What a day this is turning out to be." He looked at Ben, his eyes bright but dazed. "I really didn't ask you a question when you came in?"
"You really didn't."
"Then what were you saying yes to?"
"Never mind that."
Lifting his hands, Ben moved to inspect his son's wound. Born from worry, it was a motion he did not think much of until Adam stood abruptly and stepped out of reach.
"What are you doing?" Adam demanded.
"Taking a closer look at your wound."
"I didn't ask you to do that."
"You didn't, but that doesn't change the fact that it needs to be looked at."
"Not by you."
There was no point in arguing. "I'm going to get the doctor," Ben said. "You sit down, and take it easy until he tells you otherwise."
"I don't need you to go for the…"
The front door opened suddenly, revealing Doc Martin who was followed closely by Roy Coffee.
"... doctor," Adam finished lamely as he sank back down to sit on the side of the desk. "Huh," he added, his face falling with confusion as both men approached. "That seems… quick."
Ben cast Coffee a worried glance. "What happened?" he asked.
"Oh, nothing much," Coffee drawled easily. "Disagreement between a coupla of the early birds at the saloon. So focused on trying to break it up, Adam forgot to remember to duck." He looked at Adam. "This is why deputies are a good thing. You have someone to watch your back, or in your case, your side."
"I work alone," Adam said gruffly.
"No," Coffee disagreed. "You worked alone. Sheriffing ain't a one man show. You need a deputy, maybe two."
"I don't want two," Adam said. "I don't even want one."
"And I don't want to see you have another altercation like the one this morning," Coffee said.
"You won't," Adam said.
"You can't promise such a thing," Coffee said. "You need a deputy."
Silently watching the disagreement unfold, Ben was certain he and Doc Martin had become unsolicited witnesses to an argument that had begun long before the moment they had found themselves privy to it. A part of him wanted to say something. To voice support in favor of either his oldest friend or son. But he did not. This was a building conflict that had nothing to do with him, his opinion on the matter guaranteed to be met with as much resistance as his previous concern for the wound upon his son's head.
"Roy," Adam said. "If I've told you once then I've told you damn near a thousand times, I don't—"
"Trust deputies," Coffee finished smartly. "I know. And in your previous position, given your previous interactions, I don't blame you. But even you have to admit this is different from that."
"It's not that different," Adam countered. "Besides, if I remember correctly— "
"That's assuming you remember it at all."
"I put an end to the fight in the saloon, it was the guys outside who didn't take kindly to me telling their buddies what to do."
"Again, a perfect example of how a deputy would be of great value to you."
"I don't see how that would have changed anything. Then it would have been two of us getting beat up instead of just me."
"Gentleman," Doc Martin interjected, looking between Adam and Coffee. "Can I ask you to put a pin in this debate, at least until I assess the competency of the injured party?"
Adam scowled at the doctor. "I'm fine."
"I think I'll be the judge of that," Martin said. Setting his kit on the desk next to where Adam sat, he rummaged through it, procuring a bottle of iodine, a clean towel, thread and needle, and a tightly wrapped bandage roll that he arranged in a tidy line next to the case. Then he raised his hands and held them just above the cut on Adam's head. "May I?" he asked.
Watching curiously, Ben half expected his son to reject the offer as Adam assessed Martin's hands scornfully.
"Oh, if you must," Adam said.
He did not flinch as the doctor poked and prodded his wound, something which Ben was not sure if he was more impressed or unnerved by. He felt like an encroacher. A witness to something that, under normal circumstances, his son would not allow him to see. He looked at Roy Coffee, who had shifted his body away from the desk and fixed his attention to cleaning out the coffee pot on the stove. It was a task that Ben felt oddly jealous of. He wished he had thought of it first, then maybe he would have had something to do other than standing awkwardly in the center of the room.
"What was it?" This was a sudden question that broke the silence that had settled in the room, an inquiry Adam had aimed toward his father in effort to contend with the stinging pain of the iodine that was being scrubbed over the open wound on his head, no doubt.
"What was what?" Ben asked.
"The question you already answered yes to," Adam said.
"Oh," Ben said. "That was regarding whether Jamie could stay in town after school and spend time with you."
"I don't recall asking you that," Adam said.
"You didn't," Ben said. "Joe asked for you."
"Huh," Adam said, his brows furrowing with confusion. "That's funny. I don't recall asking him either."
"That's not shocking," Martin interjected. "Given the size of your pupils, you are quite concussed. Still, I would say you're fortunate. Your head wound is deep, but the entry point is small. It seems to have stopped bleeding on its own. I don't see a purpose of stitching it; covering it until the skin heals over should do. You are very lucky. The last man I treated after he had a liquor bottle broken over his head didn't have as favorable of an outcome as this."
"Oh, let me guess," Adam said cynically. "He died."
"No," Martin said gravely. "He didn't die. His fate was much worse than death."
"Really?" Adam said, his voice rich with mock enthusiasm. "Oh, tell me, Doc, what could possibly be worse than death?"
"I don't know if it's seemly for me to share," Martin said.
"Why?" Adam snorted. "Because this is a story you're making up?"
"Now, why would I do a thing like that?"
"Oh, I don't know." Eyes narrowing, Adam cast Coffee a suspicious look. "Because you were asked by someone to craft a cautionary tale that would be alluring enough to convince me to recruit a deputy."
Martin looked at Coffee. "Told you it wasn't gonna work, Roy," he said.
"Coulda worked." Coffee shrugged. "Given how confused he was when he came to after that bottle hit him, it shoulda worked."
Ben found it was curious to watch Adam in his professional environment, intriguing to know that whatever instruction Roy Coffee was trying to give could be interpreted as nothing more than a suggestion. Adam was free to do whatever he wanted. He was the sheriff. Protector of the whole town. There was no one in this room who could tell him what to do.
"I wasn't lying about the concussion, though," Martin advised Adam as he began to bandage the wound. "I suspect you're in for one helluva of a headache. You take it easy when it hits you. You know where to find me should you need me again." He looked at Ben, his eyes searching for verification of something not easily gleaned.
Ben wondered if his presence was being questioned. If his lack of support or opposition, the choosing of one point of view over the other was being looked upon unfavorably. It was impossible to choose, of course. Anything he did was bound to be looked upon poorly by at least one person in the room. Supporting Coffee meant alienating Adam further, and supporting Adam meant ignoring Coffee's valid concern about his son's well-being—feelings he suddenly realized he shared, feelings he wished both he and his son would be comfortable with him voicing. But they were not. Sadly, he realized he was neither enemy nor ally in this fight. He was nothing more than an uninvited spectator, his very presence a fluke.
He had not wanted to come to town. That was Joe's doing. Still now that he was here, he wondered how he would find the desire to leave. He did not want to leave. He wanted to embed himself into the periphery of his oldest son's daily life and silently observe, because now it was clear how much Adam had changed. The Adam who had existed before his abrupt departure Ben had known. The Adam that had returned was a person he did not. But he longed to.
"You heard Doc, Adam," Coffee said, his lips beginning to curl into a smile as he glanced at Ben and winked conspiratorially.
Oh, no, Ben thought. Roy, you sentimental old fool. Don't you dare try to—
"You need to take it easy," Coffee continued, returning attention to Adam. "Now why don't you head out for the afternoon? Let your pa walk you home, so you can get some rest."
Ben nearly groaned, his heart fluttering with dread. The suggestion was untenable, their abeyant relationship would never allow for such a thing.
Adam's indignation was immediate. "I'm the sheriff," he said coolly. "I don't intend to abandon my post."
"Well, lucky for you I'm here," Coffee said congenially as he ignored Adam's change in mood. "I'll look after things for the remainder of the day, but just for the remainder of the day, ya hear? Seems to me, watching the office while the sheriff is indisposed is the kind of job fittin' of a deputy. That's something you can think about while you're sitting at home, getting the rest Doc told you to get."
"I can rest here," Adam said. "Should I need to."
"Jail cells are full up of the guys who pushed you around," Coffee countered.
"Thus, why it is so important for me to stay."
"You're gonna be lying on the cold, hard floor, should you need to."
"Wouldn't be the first time. Won't be the last. Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I have work to do."
Standing up, Adam squared his shoulders and chin as he began ushering both Coffee and Martin from the room. Ben tried not to fixate on the fact that he was not pushed to leave alongside the others. It was a difficult thing not to notice—or not to want to assign value to.
Martin left the building without comment. Coffee, however, hung slightly behind.
"Think about what I said, Adam," he said, his tone suddenly serious. "I know you're used to depending on just yourself, but you and I both know that after the stage rolls in you're gonna want a deputy." He glanced at Ben briefly, his eyes glistening with a hint of something unknown before transferring his attention back to Adam. "And you're gonna need help," he added firmly but quietly. "Think about it."
Coffee did not wait for a response. Stepping out on the boardwalk, he was content with only having his opinion heard.
Closing the door, Adam lingered in place for a moment, his shoulders losing their rigidity as he took an audible deep breath. Turning around, he looked at his father, his face settling into an indecipherable mask. He opened his mouth to speak, then cleared his throat, and closed it again.
They were silent for a moment longer, each not really knowing what to do with the other. Ben resigned himself not to be the first one to speak, everything inside of him was insisting this was not a moment he wanted to allow the wrong words to escape him.
"Thank you," Adam said. "For allowing Jamie to spend time with me. I know that's not an easy request for you to grant. And… thank you for not interjecting yourself into the conversation with Roy."
Pursing his lips, Ben could not decide upon the proper response. So he opened his mouth and led with his heart. "You're a grown man, Adam, and the sheriff of this town. I believe you are quite capable of making the right decisions for yourself, and those around you."
The impulsivity of the quiet statement did not lessen its importance or truth. Though he had not planned the words, they felt as good to say as they did to hear aloud. Ben nodded as though concurring with what he had already said. There was nothing more to say after that; no way to add to or improve upon what had already been voiced. The expression on Adam's face said more than words could have anyway, a welcome mixture of gratefulness and bewilderment.
Moving toward the door, Ben took his leave with a nod. Better to end the moment with another positive action, rather than risking opening one's mouth only to accidentally utter more obstructionist words.
He stopped at the schoolhouse on his way out of town to grant Jamie permission to remain in Adam's company after school. Though the state of things made it impossible for Ben to linger in his injured son's company, Adam would not spend the afternoon or evening alone.
TBC