VI
A light spring breeze drifted through his office window as Adam stood and looked down at the street below. A battle always raged within him but that morning, it was particularly strong as the urge to leave the claustrophobic four walls to join the round-up with his brothers, rose again. He wanted physical work, not something he had to think about. That had always been Adam's struggle, whether to use his mind, his education to further the Ponderosa's interest or to use the strength of his back and end the day covered in a fine layer of sweat and dust after having been on the property from sunup to sundown. Sluicing the back of his neck with water from the outside pump and then later, standing in a tin tub and rinsing himself with cool water was always a reward after a hard day's work.
"But, Adam, who's going to do it if not you?" Ben had said when Adam brought it up.
"Pa, you did it for years. Wouldn't you like to take it easy now, spending the day reading contracts and traveling to all those cities? I never minded balancing the books here but being in an office in town all day. I just…" Adam had rubbed the back of his neck. He had thought many times in the past he would gladly give up hammered thumbs, sparks from a forge spitting into his face and being kicked by a crazy steer for the ease of reading contracts and doing nothing more than putting his ass on a chair instead of in a saddle all day. He had even enjoyed his trips to San Francisco, hosting or being feted by railroad men who wanted Ponderosa timber. And then there were the women who were sent to his hotel rooms primed by company heads in an effort to win his favor to their project over others. A tinge of danger always colored those trysts; would he be drugged with a glass of French champagne and then rolled by the woman's cohorts only to be left partially stripped on the docks? Adam's semses were always on alert on those trips, just as they had been during the war, making him feel alive, even more so when the woman turned out to be talented and well-versed in what pleased a man.
But those days as a single man were over and now, as a married man, Adam was glad that he didn't come home to Sibella smelling like the tail-end of a horse and have to scrub the grime from under his nails before he could play with her, teasing her with kisses and touches. But the land still called to him no matter how much he tried to ignore it.
Adam pulled out his pocket watch; it was almost noon. He hoped to stop by Sheriff Coffee's and ask about any new information on Meg and Jess. But would Roy tell him? Adam had only provided the ransom money and Jess owed him nothing, having signed over shares in Mine #12, a mine that wasn't really worth further exploration. There was high-grade silver ore hidden in the stone walls, but extracting it would cost too much and the water leaking in would compromise any tunneling.
Adam turned at the knock on the door. Miss Pear came in. "Have you made any rewrites?" She indicated with her head that she meant the contract on the desk. Adam turned and picked it up.
"Actually, I did. Here. It's no hurry; we can send it out tomorrow."
"Yes, sir. "Miss Pear took the papers, smiled, and turned to leave.
Adam slipped on his suit jacket, and when he entered the outer office, noticed his secretary was sitting and flipping through the contract, looking at the changes her boss had made, circling some phrases and writing notes in the borders. "Miss Pear? I'm heading to Finnegan's for a quick lunch. How about you?"
"Oh, I thought I'd work a bit more before I ate." She was confused as Mr. Cartwright allowed her to basically come and go as she pleased, eat her packed lunch at her desk whenever she chose. He had never inquired before how she spent her time.
"No, I meant, would you like to go out for lunch? It'll get us out of this office for a bit. It's too pretty a day to be stuck inside."
Miss Pear blushed and for a brief moment, Adam considered that she was almost pretty.
"Oh…oh, you mean have lunch with you?" Miss Pear was practically breathless, feared she might even faint. Mr. Cartwright had never suggested anything like lunch with him before and she wasn't prepared.
"Yes. Just at the diner but if you would rather not, please, just say so."
"No, no…" She glanced at her lunch pail on the floor beside her and then, looking at Adam, gave a tremulous smile; he was so wonderful, so handsome. "I would like it vey much. Thank you." She felt her heart thudding and held onto the desk while she stood and went to him.
Adam put on his hat that hung by the door and helped Miss Pear with her manteau. She smiled appreciatively and then placed her small, straw hat on, securing it with a hatpin. Adam opened the door, and glowing with happiness, Miss Pear swept through. Adam locked the door behind them.
~ 0 ~
Sibella had slept late and then asked Mrs. George to fix her bath. Wearing just her wrapper and slippers, Sibella entered the bath house, warm from the fire beneath the cistern, and after adding bath salts to the hot water, slipped into the tub. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, smiling as she remembered the night and how Adam had finally carried her upstairs, only to repeat their lovemaking. Her heart practically sang with joy while her body tingled all over again. How could she ever doubt Adam loved her after that! But there was something, she was concerned about something…Meg. What had become of her? And while she herself had luxuriated in Adam's arms, was Meg suffering, being molested by her captors, or was she lying dead in an abandoned mine.
After the bath, Sibella leisurely dried her hair in front of the low fire in the parlor, thinking how she would spend the day when Mrs. George entered and informed her thst if she didn't et breakfast now, it would be lunch on the table instead, so Sibella reluctantly went into the kitchen and sat with her hair still damp. She knew that she should insist on being served in the dining room with proper forks, knives and spoons and her wedding china set before her, but the kitchen was so warm and friendly that it made her feel cheerful to see the billowing chintz curtains and the shiny wood surfaces and the newly-blacked stove; it was wonderful room.
'And have you any plans for today, Missus?" Mrs. George said, pouring coffee. "I thought I'd have Moss take me to town to the green grocers and such. My kitchen garden isn't growing too well—those deer have been coming around, I'm sure, and eating everything! I want to plant some mint to keep them away and I can use it for mint jelly as well. And we're low on onions," she continued going back to the sink. "Last year was a poor crop. Oh, and Moss," she turned to look at Sibella, "says we need more oats for the horses and alfalfa for the cows, hay and…well, all that's his business. He feeds the stock and I feed you and the mister. Oh…I didn't mean that to sound…"
"It's all right, Mrs. George. You and Moss go into town and buy what you need." Sibella spread jam on half a piece of toast. "I'll be fine. I have to finish drying my hair and…" She remembered last night. "And I'll strip the bedding for you; it needs changing."
"Oh," Mrs. George said, "I just put on fresh sheets Sunday." Sibella wouldn't meet her eye, looking instead at the scrambled eggs on her plate, and Mrs. George decided not to wonder further. "All right. I can do the linens early this week." Mrs. George pulled off her apron, placing it over the back of a kitchen chair. "If you leave you dishes in the sink, I'll do them when I get back. I'll go tell Moss to hitch the buckboard." Sibella smiled in approval and continued with her breakfast.
Sibella waited, even pouring herself another cup of coffee, until she heard the rumbling of the buckboard leaving. Then she hurried upstairs, stripped the bed, leaving the sheets in a pile on the floor, and sat at her vanity, brushing her hair back into a simple chignon. She quickly pinned a snood in pace and proceeded to dress for riding out to the Starling house to see Jess. Perhaps he needed to talk or felt lonely but she secretly hoped Jess would reveal an important piece of information Roy Coffee or Clem Foster didn't have. Or Adam. Sheriff Coffee had said last night that he would ride out there and find out how things were but she wanted to know for herself.
She buttoned up her shirt and pinned the collar, slipped on the vest and after pulling on her boots, examined herself in the mirror. Sibella was delighted with her appearance; she really should stay in the outfit until Adam came home to admire her. But before she left the room, she paused. Perhaps she should take the gun. Sibella had never fired a gun before but she did know the basics as Adam had once shown her. One held the gun, aimed, pulled back the hammer and then, the trigger. He had told her it was a single-action weapon and when Sibella had asked what that meant, she regretted it. Adam had gone into the mechanics of a single-action revolver telling her to remember, "Pull the hammer and trigger once, fire one round. You have to repeat the step for each round; less chance of shooting yourself or some innocent bystander that way." And then he had lectured her about being careful with guns and with the rifles locked in the rack.
Sibella slid open the nightstand drawer and the revolver lay there, all shiny gray steel with a wood inlay handle. She lifted it up and was again surprised at how heavy it was. Where would she carry it? It was too heavy to slip in the waistband of her divided skirt and she might even accidently shoot herself—or her horse. Deciding against it, Sibella was about to replace the gun when she noticed a pocket knife and a slender book. She had never gone through Adam's things, not his bureau drawers or anything else and wasn't the least surprised to see the book; seemed he always had a book or his guitar. She pulled it out and laying the gun on the top of the nightstand, saw what looked like a letter used as a bookmark. She noted it was between pages 65 and 66; she would have to remember to put it back there; Adam might have placed it there specifically for a reason. She pulled the letter out and stared at the address: Pvt. Adam Cartwright, 1st Battalion Nevada Volunteers… Sibella dropped onto the bed and sat holding the letter, staring at it, unable to catch her breath. It was from Meg. And Adam had kept it all this time.
Sibella's hands shook. She lay back on the bed, clutching the unopened letter to her breast, and closed her eyes until her dizziness subsided. She sat back up to read the letter. Sibella knew she should feel guilty about reading what was obviously a private correspondence, but she had to know what was written that had made Adam keep it. She pulled the letter out and unfolded it, reading:
"My Dearest Love,
My heart is broken over and over every morning that I awake and realize you are gone. I so desperately wish you had not left me, not your home and gone off to war. I reread that poem by Lovelace, "To Lucasta Going to the Wars," and repeat to myself, 'Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind, that from the nunnery of thy chaste breast and quiet mind, to war and arms I fly…. I could not love thee dear so much, loved I not honor more.' You had read me that when you tried to comfort me, explaining why you were joining up but it is cold comfort.
Oh, my love, I know how you struggle with what is honorable and that you must stand up for your beliefs. I understand and I do support you. But I also am selfish and want nothing more than to taste your kisses and feel your arms about me…."
Sibella couldn't read more; it made her ill. She refolded the letter and practically jammed it back into the envelope. Standing, she put it back in the book, not caring where, put it in the drawer and placed the gun over it, slamming shut the drawer. She began to cry, the tears coming in sobs as she saw proof of the intensity of Meg and Adam's love. And she suddenly hoped Meg was dead. Sibella knew it was vindictive and cruel and it wasn't worthy of her and would damn her soul to hell, but she couldn't change the way she felt. Meg had loved Adam and had been able to put it in such lyrical terms. No wonder Adam had so loved her so much; she must have filled his heart with the poetry for which he yearned.
But Sibella had received religious instruction and she knew that an evil thought was as bad as committing the deed. Quickly, Sibella bowed her head and clasped her hands asking God to forgive her for her evil thoughts and for Meg Starling to be found safe and unharmed. Although she had uttered the prayer, Sibella was sure God knew what was truly in her heart and that she only partly meant it. She wondered if she really was a true murderess; could she gladly plunge a knife into Meg's breast just to be rid of her and her prior claim on Adam's heart? She didn't know.
~ 0 ~
For Miss Pear, it was indeed a lovely day. The sun was bright and white billowy clouds scudded across the blue sky, and Miss Pear reveled in the way people nodded and smiled as Adam tipped his hat with one hand while steering her by the elbow with the other. So, this was what it was like to be married to such a handsome, powerful man. Was this a turning point, she wondered? Perhaps Mrs. Cartwright had done something so egregious that her husband finally realized she wasn't worthy of him. Oh, Mrs. Sibella Cartwright was beautiful enough with her tiny waist and rounded hips, and her pale, creamy complexion which made her blue eyes seem even bluer, but she didn't have the qualities a man of Mr. Cartwright's sensibilities needed, that he required for a happy life. And Miss Pear felt that she would win out over Sibella Cartwright any day as she was punctual, serious, and totally devoted to Adam Cartwright who needed loyalty and understanding, something he defintely had in her.
The little diner was loud, not a place for anything romantic and after asking what she liked, Adam ordered beef stew for Miss Pear and chicken fried steak for himself. Miss Pear sat back as their coffee was poured by a disinterested young woman whose only job seemed making certain coffee cups and water glasses were kept filled and empty tables cleared and wiped clean.
"Well," Miss Pear said, not really knowing how to behave out of the office, "this lunch is a lovely surprise. My mother will be wondering if I ate at all when I bring home an untouched lunch pail." She leaned forward. "I think I'll tease her a bit and let her think you're such a tyrant you kept me too busy to eat!" Miss Pear giggled a bit and Adam smiled.
"You should have told me if you preferred to eat your packed lunch," Adam said.
"Oh, no, no!" She wanted to assure Adam he would always win out. "I much prefer this."
"Well, good." Adam didn't know what to say. "That contract, the one I just edited, well…"
"Oh, sir, I'll get to that as soon as we're back in the office." Mrs. Finnegan's son arrived with their food on a tray and placed their dishes before them. Then he stood, waiting, and cleared his throat.
"Thank you, Patrick," Adam said. "Is there something else?"
"I was just wondering if you need any hands at the Ponderosa. I can do all sorts of things, sir. I can especially help the chuckwagon cook; I can peel a potato in nothing flat."
"Why don't you ride over and talk to my father when you're free. We're in the middle of spring roundup and there might be something for an eager young man to do that doesn't include scrubbing pots or peeling potatoes."
"Yes, sir! Thank you, sir." The teen started to leave but stopped and said, "Don't say anything to my mam, if you wouldn't mind."
"It'll be our secret." Adam winked at the young man who grinned back.
"Oh," Miss Pear said, placing her napkin in her lap and picking up her spoon, "that's kind of you to offer him a position. You're such a fine man."
Not understanding why, Adam blushed and so did Miss Pear. Then over her head, Adam saw Roy Coffee standing outside the big window with Finnegan's Diner painted on it alongside a plate of indeterminate food and a pot of steaming coffee, wavy lines coming from the spout indicating it was hot. Roy was craning his neck, looking inside for someone. It seemed he wanted Adam as they locked eyes and Roy put up a hand in recognition, heading to the door of the diner.
"Will you excuse me, Miss Pear?" Adam said, standing up and placing his napkin on the table. "I see Sheriff Coffee and we have some business."
"Oh…of course." She turned to watch him walk away and then went back to her beef stew. It wasn't as tasty as it had been just a second before.
Adam stepped outside on the busy sidewalk. "What is it, Roy? Do you have anything on Meg's abduction?"
"Well, that's what I wanted to speak with you about, seeing how you gave Jess the money and all but I didn't mean to take you away from your lunch…is that Miss Pear you're breaking bread with?" He looked around Adam's shoulder in time to see Miss Pear turn her head to look out the window at them.
"Yes, Miss Pear. Now what…"
"Is it a special day…like her birthday or a big contract?" Roy barely concealed his smile.
"Not that I know, Roy. I just invited her to lunch, that's all. Now what did you find out?"
"Oh, I went to Jess' this morning to see the notes but he wasn't to home. I knocked but there was no answer. Walked around the house, went to the barn and there was nothing there but one horse. The whole place was quiet. Don't s'pose you've seen him this morning."
"No, I haven't seen him. So, there was no one around?"
"No one. I'm wonderin' if he left, went back home to his parents' maybe." Roy looked around Adam again. "That Miss Pear is plain but other than that, imagine she'd make someone a good wife. Respectable, dependable, that's what she is.… Anything wrong between you and Sibella?" Roy Coffee couldn't pass up a chance to get in a dig.
"Roy, there's nothing wrong in my marriage. I just asked my secretary if she'd like to have lunch and that's the end of it. Now, did Clem find anything in the mine?"
"What? Oh, no, he didn't. Went out again this morning to check again but just saw wagon tracks, horse hooves, just what you'd expect."
"What about the handkerchief? That wasn't there?"
"Now, why should that be there?" Roy's mind raced to get to the conclusion before Adam.
"Because if I were picking up ransom money, I'd count it and why would I need the handkerchief?"
"I hadn't thought of that but…maybe they took it some distance before it was counted."
Adam stopped listening as he recognized his own buckboard driven by Moss and sitting beside him was Mrs. George. Adam stepped out into the street and Moss stopped the buckboard. "Mr. Cartwright, something wrong?"
"Where's Mrs. Cartwright?"
"She was eating her breakfast in her morning wrap with wet hair when I left," Mrs. George said. Suddenly she was worried. Had she done something wrong?
"Oh. Everything was all right, then. Shopping?"
"Yes, sir. Everything was fine when we left the Missus. I need to go to the greengrocers, get flour, salt and baking soda and… Let me find my list," she said, snapping open her small bag and rooting around. "I know I put it in here…"
"And I'm getting the oats and alfalfa, grain and the hay we need like you said, so since Mrs. George needed to do her shopping, well, it seemed convenient we come together but if you'd rather we go back, we will," Moss added.
"No, no. I just wondered why Mrs. Cartwright hadn't come into town with you; she usually needs something…but go run your errands." Adam stepped back onto the sidewalk and watched as the buggy went on its way. Something bothered him; it was like a mosquito whining in his ear, something he couldn't ignore but yet couldn't put his finger on. Adam turned to Roy. "Have you had lunch?"
"Well, no, not yet."
Adam looked at the back of the buckboard as it rumbled down the dirt street. "Like chicken-fried steak?"
"Who doesn't?"
Adam slipped his wallet from his back pocket and pulling out a few bills, handed them to Roy. "Have lunch on me, you and Miss Pear both. And here." Adam pulled two keys from his pocket, picking out the office key and dropping the other back into his jacket's pocket. "Tell Miss Pear to just leave the key on my desk." Adam stepped inside to fetch his hat while Roy protested that he could pay for their lunches. What if someone saw and thought Adam had slipped Roy a bribe.
Adam only chuckled. "I doubt that, Roy. Just enjoy my steak. And Miss Pear's company; you might find you like it!" He grinned at leaving Roy with his mouth agape, unable to think of a response. And turning, Adam headed to Given's Livery; he'd saddle his horse himself; it would be faster.
