Chapter 3
July 15, 1865
It was the opening day of the Virginia City Annual County Fair, and the four Cartwrights were on their way to town.
Joe was visibly excited; he was talking nonstop about the day's events and the friends he was going to meet up with as he rode Cochise next to the buggy. Hoss was driving the buggy, mentally preparing himself for the pie eating contest later on. He'd had a light breakfast—only two helpings of eggs—and he'd even skipped the bacon. He was set on winning the contest this year.
Ben sat next to Hoss on the buggy's seat and listened good-naturedly while Joe chattered on. He was used to his son's youthful exuberance and knew that it would be good for both Joe and Hoss to have a little fun in town. Ben shared their need to celebrate the fact that their family was once again reunited.
Initially, they'd planned to blow of some steam on July 4, but since Adam had returned home unexpectedly on July 3, they'd naturally wanted to stay at home with him. They'd foregone the usual festivities and practically stuck to the ranch for the last eleven days. It was time for them to get out and show their faces around town again and Ben was pleased that Adam had agreed to come along. However, as he continued glancing over at his oldest son riding quietly on the other side of the wagon, Ben started to doubt whether Adam was up for it yet.
Adam pulled his black Stetson lower across his brow, shading his eyes from the burning sun. He'd woken up with a dull headache just before dawn and he was beginning to really regret that he'd let himself get talked into coming today. He had deliberately avoided going into Virginia City since his return and now the closer they got—the more uneasy he became.
He did want to see his friends again after such a long time. A few of his closest and oldest friends had already been out to the Ponderosa to visit him, which had delighted him more than he'd thought it would. What he dreaded was the stream of questions he knew was coming. The gossiping ladies and the curious cowboys. With him being the oldest son of Ben Cartwright and having an officer's rank that everyone knew about, he knew that he wouldn't get away with just enjoying a day in town.
He closed his eyes, then blinked rapidly a couple of times. Today more than usual, the lack of sleep was getting to him.
". . . don't you think, Adam?"
"Huh?"
Adam turned to face his youngest brother who was looking a little dispirited.
"Sorry Joe, I was far away there for a minute. What did you say?"
"Oh, I was just saying it's gonna be nice going into town all four of us again. I was sorta wanting you to meet some new friends of mine. Well, they're not so new anymore but they've been really great to have around for the last couple of years. They know we've been waitin' for you to come home for a long time."
Seeing Adam tense up, Joe quickly added, "But I can tell them not to ask you about the war."
Adam relaxed and smiled at Joe, touched by his concern. "No, it's fine. I guess I need to face people again sooner or later. Of course I'd like to meet your friends, little buddy."
Joe's face lit up in childlike happiness at hearing the term of endearment that only Adam ever used for him. He urged Cochise to go faster next to the buggy and Adam exhaled deeply, dutifully following his family.
Virginia City was bustling with activity and the streets were filled with buggies, horses and people. After years of war and weeks of grieving the tragic loss of President Lincoln, it was if the town was—much like the entire country—truly coming out of mourning. There was an atmosphere of optimism and hope for the future, which seemed to match the glorious weather of a perfect, cloudless summer's day.
The Cartwright family rode down the wide C street, past buildings with one and two stories and with a continuous, covered boardwalk on either side of the road. It wasn't long before folks started calling out greetings to Ben, Hoss and Joe. Adam, attempting to keep in the background, stayed behind the wagon as it crawled along the overfilled street. There was no mistaking the moment when people recognized him. Shouts of "Adam!" rang out all around him and he smiled slightly, trying to identify all the voices yelling at him. Some folks just stared while others, mostly the women and elderly ladies, turned to each other and whispered.
Adam was astounded by the number of people who pushed their way through the crowd and reached up to shake his hand, welcoming him home. A lot of them were cowboys and business acquaintances from the lumber and mining industries, and there were also a few neighbors, some of whom looked completely different after four years.
Sam from the Bucket of Blood stood on the boardwalk outside the saloon to watch the proceedings and when the Cartwrights sailed by, he waved at Adam and yelled out, "Welcome back Adam! You got a couple of free beers waitin' for you when you get the chance!"
In response, Adam pinched the brim of his hat with his thumb and index finger and gave the bartender a grateful look before following his family as they neared the area where the fair was.
The street widened and the center of all the commotion came into view; an open space where stalls and tables stood with queues lined up in front of them. Buntings in blue, red and white hung from the nearby rooftops and on the boardwalk railings, and updated American flags were draped from the balconies—now displaying thirty-six white stars—a visible evidence of Nevada's entry into statehood.
Everywhere there were posters with bold letters, advertising food, drink and the day's events. The different stalls were mostly being managed by members of The Women's Social Club and a wide variety of goods were on sale. Plenty were selling clothes, jewelry, and braided bridles, but some also offered items such as paintings, books, pottery and homemade jams and beverages. The money made from the sales would go to a number of good causes and establishments including the local orphanage, the school and the poor folk of Virginia City. Competitions would be held over the course of the five days the fair lasted and there were events suited for men, women and children. Some of the contests included wrestling, ax throwing, marksmanship, dress making and the pie baking test, which would be followed by the pie eating challenge.
The Cartwright family moved past all the hustle, towards the southern end of town where there was a place reserved for horses and buggies. There were a few water troughs around and a shelter of canvas had been put up to provide horses with shade along the surrounding trees. Just past the last buildings at the edge of town, were a few more stalls and a clear view of the slope of Mount Davidson.
Ben pulled up the buggy by one of the nearby trees and Adam and Joe tied Sport and Cochise next to each other.
"Hot diggity, the town sure is jam-packed today. All them food smells made me powerful hungry!"
Hoss climbed down from the wagon when his younger brother's finger appeared, tapping at his massive chest.
"You just make sure you don't go following any of those food smells," Joe said, revealing a row of perfect white teeth, "you wanna win that pie eating contest this year, don't you?"
"Aw shucks Joe . . ."
Ben laughed at the crestfallen look on Hoss' face, but Adam didn't take any of it in. His attention was fixed on a group of people heading towards him and his family.
One of them was Tom Madigan from the International House, an old friend of the Cartwrights, and he reached out a hand as soon as he got to Adam.
"Adam! I was hoping you'd be here today. It's so good to see you again, welcome home."
"Thanks Tom, it's good to be back," Adam said and shook Tom's hand with sincere warmth.
The rest of the group then made their presence known and a stream of excited chatter rushed the family, most of it aimed directly at Adam.
"How have you been?"
"—almost didn't recognize you—"
"It must be wonderful to have him home again—"
"—feared you'd never return!"
"You must be so proud of him, a Union captain . . ."
Adam wasn't the blushing type, it simply wasn't in his nature, so in response to the shower of praise that suddenly rained down on him, he offered only shoulder shrugs and a continuous repeat of the phrases "I only did my duty" and "others made much greater sacrifices".
Thankfully, he was mostly offered warm welcomes but after a few minutes, being the center of attention was starting to get to him.
Ben studied his son with a father's pride but also with a father's perceptiveness, and he recognized that Adam was getting overwhelmed. He excused himself from his own conversation with his friends and stepped up beside Adam to address the eager group.
"If you'll all excuse us," Ben said, tapping Adam's arm, "I'd like to have a moment with this one before he and the boys go off and are lost to me for the rest of the day."
Everyone easily accepted that and people turned to Hoss and Joe instead, engaging in the usual small talk.
Adam walked beside his father back to the wagon and his shoulders lifted and fell with a deep breath once they were alone. He knew exactly what his Pa had done and didn't bother pretending that there was anything they needed to talk about.
"Thanks Pa," he simply said.
"You're welcome. I hope you didn't assume that you would be left to fend for yourself completely. But I hope you can see that folks are genuinely happy to see you. They just want to express that in the ways they can."
"Yea, I see what you mean. And it is nice seeing everyone again. I just . . . "Adam's gaze dropped, and he began toeing the ground with the tip of his boot. "Well, you know what it's like, Pa."
Ben's eyes crinkled at the corners. He knew perfectly well that his oldest boy didn't take well to receiving praise, however well deserved it might be. Adam barely accepted it from his own family, let alone from friends and almost-strangers.
"I know, Adam. But it might take a while before people start treating you like before. After all, you were gone for a long time. As for the questions some might ask, well, you have no obligation to answer the things you don't want to."
Adam didn't say anything, he just pushed out his lower lip as his dark eyebrows drew together. The sight reminded Ben of a five-year-old Adam because that was the look he'd started wearing back then, whenever he would try to work through some deep problem. And there had been many problems to consider, troubles that no five-year-old should ever have to face. It was around the same time that Adam had started to put up those strong emotional defenses and Ben felt a familiar ache claw at his heart at the thought. He quickly put it aside again before it got too much and he spoke to his son in a cheerful tone.
"Now, let's go out and take part in the festivities. I really think this day will be good for all of us and that includes you. Just give it a proper chance."
Adam's expression gradually loosened up with a little upturned twist of his mouth. "Sure, Pa."
Father and son went back to join the two youngest Cartwrights and then the four of them headed to the fair.
xXXx
"Now where in tarnation did he disappear off to? I dun told him we were gonna go and get a beer over at Sam's and the minute I turn my back he's off gallivanting' around again!"
Hoss pushed through the mass of people, his jaw jutting out as he searched the area.
"Oh, let him be, Hoss," Adam said, wiping the sweat from his brow. "He's probably found something to do with his new friends. We might as well head over to the Bucket of Blood ourselves."
Taking advantage of his sibling's bulk, Adam followed behind Hoss in the path he'd created. Adam had enjoyed being with his brothers and meeting Joe's new friends, but it wasn't the easiest bunch to keep up with. A sit-down somewhere in the shade was really all he wanted now. It made him feel a little old.
"Dadburnit Adam, it's been his turn to pay for drinks the last three times me and him come to town. I'll bet ya that little scamp is cooling down in the shade somewhere thinkin' he's real smart."
"Actually"—Adam pulled at the brown vest Hoss always wore—"I think I just found him."
Hoss turned around and saw where Adam was looking. About fifty feet to their right, a group of men were huddled together around something, their fists pumping the air while they yelled and laughed in excitement.
When someone shouted, "Come on Little Joe!", Hoss and Adam exchanged a brief eyeroll before Hoss plowed forward in the new direction. They reached the wall of men and a gap was quickly formed to let them in.
Joe was sitting pinch-faced at a table, the sleeve of his tan shirt rolled up and his bicep fully flexed as he arm-wrestled a young man around his age. Adam and Hoss instantly relaxed, seeing that for once, Joe's disappearing act was of quite a harmless nature. Then when they realized that the majority of the spectators were rooting for their little brother's opponent, they quickly added their own voices to those of Joe's supporters. Joe's concentration broke and his head shot to them, an action that nearly cost him the match when his adversary tried to throw him off balance. The shouting onlookers grew louder as the young man seemed to quite literally gain the upper hand and Joe's expression tightened in a grimace.
Adam watched with a secret smile as Joe's hand fell lower and lower, knowing what was about to happen. He'd taught the kid this trick himself. Joe's opponent made a grunting grin, barely two inches away from winning when Joe—with a sudden burst of strength—pushed with all his might and flung the other man's hand back, effectively pinning it to the tabletop. Everyone cheered in surprise and acknowledgement of the move and Joe stood up to pat his wide-eyed adversary's back. He then stepped over to his siblings, his emerald eyes lighting up his handsome features.
"Well, I'm glad you fellas didn't miss the show. Someone's gotta uphold the Cartwright family pride in some of these competitions today, you know," he said as he rolled down his sleeve.
Hoss threw an arm around Joe's shoulders, his face splitting with a gap-toothed smile.
"Little brother, did ya already forget that I won that pie eatin' contest earlier?"
"Oh no, no big brother, don't you worry. I don't think I'll ever forget how you kept eating that sixth pie even after the time was called!"
Hoss squeezed Joe's shoulder hard while the younger man squirmed in his grip and Adam watched their antics with silent amusement. He was about to say that the two of them should enter the wrestling contest when he felt a prickly feeling on the back of his neck and looked up.
His gaze immediately landed on a man standing on the boardwalk in front of the general store. The man was leaning against a wooden post under the shade of the tin roof—a full, yellow beard covering most of his face. What bothered Adam about the guy, was that he was staring directly at him. For a few moments, the noise of the crowd around them became a blurry background and Adam held the stranger's eyes challengingly. They stayed like that until the man's head slowly turned, just slightly, but it was enough to change his line of sight.
Adam sighed and rubbed a hand across his forehead. He knew he'd been observed a few times over the last couple of hours; he'd felt the first set of eyes on him within ten minutes of entering the fair. Every so often, he'd been able to identify the source of that prickly feeling like just now, but not all the time.
At first, he'd been on his guard, wary of potential threats and constantly scanning his surroundings. But he'd eventually drawn the conclusion that he was being watched by Confederate sympathizers.
There was a lot of healing to be done throughout the country after a civil war of this scale, Adam knew that better than anyone. There was still anger and bitterness on both sides of the conflict, especially in the South and it would take time to learn to live with one another again. Unpleasant as it was being scrutinized this way, Adam recognized that there was no immediate threat to him or his family.
Lost in thought again, he slid the tip of his tongue along his lower lip. The little movement made him aware of how dry his mouth was, and he instinctively tried to swallow, only he found that he couldn't. Being on high alert in the big crowd had taxed his strength. He forced his eyelids tightly together but the increased throbbing by his temples was becoming impossible to ignore. Suddenly, there were too many impressions and things going on everywhere. Colors, people and sounds seemed to be spinning around him, making him feel shaky, like in an earthquake. Facing his younger siblings who were still engaged in a playful scuffle, he waved a hand tiredly at them.
"All right you two, I think we could all use a drink over at—"
"Adam Cartwright!"
Adam cringed at the sound of the shrill voice behind him. Up until now, only a few people had drawn him into conversations that went beyond a handshake and the conventional "welcome home".
His luck had just run out.
He cautiously turned around and saw a party of finely-dressed citizens coming towards him, including members of the Cattlemen's Association and their wives. Mrs. Aida Stewart who was a representative for the Virginia City Women's Social Club and also the biggest gossip in town, got to him first.
"Mr. Cartwright, it was certainly about time that you came to Virginia City. Why, we heard that you have been home for over a week and you haven't been to see anyone! How very unneighborly."
Every syllable the elderly lady spoke was like a pin stabbing into his brain and he greeted the group with a tight expression. They exchanged pleasantries, but it soon became obvious what was on everyone's mind. The men delved into politics, many of them expressing their dissatisfaction with what they perceived was lack of punishment of the "Southern rebels" and they were interested to hear Adam's opinion on the latest developments in President Johnson's Reconstruction policy.
Mrs. Stewart pushed herself into the conversation, asking him directly about certain battles and his involvement in them while one of the other ladies added that her cousin had also fought for the North. Adam was courteous for most of it and tried to answer their questions except for the ones he rudely and very deliberately ignored. But there were those whose curiosity and lack of tact made him increasingly uncomfortable.
A couple of feet away at a stand selling sandwiches, stood one of Adam's good friends, David Howell from the Territorial Enterprise and he was watching the group intently. He'd known Adam for over ten years and he'd been out to visit him at the Ponderosa just a week ago. Being one of the few outsiders who could see through the mask Adam wore in public, David's face clouded with concern at the look of his friend. He did a quick survey to see if the two other Cartwright brothers were around, but when he spotted Joe and Hoss talking to some Ponderosa cowhands off in the crowd, he made a decision.
As he approached the party standing around Adam, he realized how they were picking at him like a pack of coyotes. David wondered how his friend hadn't yet lost his composure.
"Ah, there you are!" he said enthusiastically and placed a hand on Adam's shoulder. "I told you that I had some news to share, and you just keep disappearing on me. Have you got a minute?"
Adam didn't fully face him, but David felt the tense muscles under his hand relax immediately. Mrs. Stewart looked outraged at the abrupt interruption, but Bill from the Cattlemen's Association seemed to catch on and before Adam could form a reply, Bill turned to address the group.
"Well Ladies and Gentlemen, won't you all join me over at the International House for some coffee and tea?"
The muttering party began to move and Bill and David shared a look of understanding before the cattleman followed the others.
David leaned close to Adam's ear as he steered him away. "You all right there, pal?"
Adam made a little sound of conformation and the two men went to the boardwalk outside the bank where there were less people and a bit of shade.
At that moment, Hoss had looked up from the conversation with the cowhands to check on his oldest brother. When Adam wasn't where he'd last seen him, Hoss absentmindedly moved away, scanning the sea of heads around him.
He soon spotted Adam with David over by the bank and he rushed forward. The wooden floorboards creaked as he jumped up onto the boardwalk and he went straight over to Adam who was leaning against the wall of the bank, his head hanging down.
"You okay, Adam?" Hoss asked hesitantly and put a hand on his brother's back.
"He didn't look all that well Hoss," David said, "and from what I could see, Mrs. Stewart and her bunch weren't exactly helping."
A pang of guilt hit Hoss like a punch in the gut when he realized that Adam had been left alone to deal with the likes of Mrs. Aida Stewart.
Slowly, Adam looked up, but he didn't meet either of the two men's eyes.
"I'm all right now." His voice was low and his eyes slightly unfocused. "I just got a little dizzy out there . . . I think the sun has gotten to me a bit today."
There was no fooling Hoss. Now that he could see Adam's face, the paleness of his glistening skin was all too obvious, especially in the stark contrast of his dark hair and five o'clock shadow. But Hoss knew that his mule of a brother didn't take kindly to being fussed over at the best of times, never mind in broad daylight and in public, so he clamped down on his own unease and spoke in an airy tone.
"Well then, what do ya say me and you go and find ourselves a nice little spot to sit down, hmm?"
Adam's gaze trailed wearily across the mob of people standing between him and the Bucket of Blood.
"Not at the saloon," Hoss quickly said, "We'll go out to the horses, sit on the wagon in the shade."
Adam silently closed his eyes and that was agreement enough for Hoss.
"I've gotta get back to the stand, Hoss," David said, still scrutinizing Adam with a frowning face. "There's no one else to watch it . . ."
"Sure Dave, thanks for lookin' out for him. We'll be fine now."
With obvious reluctance, David gave a little pat on his old friend's arm before stepping back down into the busy street.
The two brothers walked back through the fair towards the edge of town, Adam insisting that he needed no assistance and that he was fine. Hoss let him have his way until a dizzy spell caught him and Adam nearly toppled over, face first into Amanda Windfield's cake stand. After that, Hoss kept a discreet but firm grip under his sibling's left arm.
"Okay Hoss, we're out of the chaos now, you can let me go," Adam grumbled when they got past the last buildings. "It was just a little dizziness." Although he was trying to convey his annoyance, he just sounded tired, even to his own ears.
"Well you ain't hardly had anything to drink and nothin' to eat since that measly breakfast of yours this mornin', so I ain't surprised." Hoss was completely calm, and he didn't loosen his hold.
The wagon had just come into their sights when they heard that familiar, booming voice call them. The one voice that Adam really didn't want to hear at that moment.
"Hey boys! Up here!"
Adam and Hoss looked to their right, a little way up the mountain slope where a few more stalls stood. Their father was sitting at a table under a tree, next to where a pavilion of canvass was set up.
And Ben was not alone. Doctor Paul Martin was sitting next to him, waving at the two Cartwrights to join them.
"Great," Adam muttered. "Just great."
Hoss grimaced in sympathy but only for a second. To him, it was a stroke of good luck that the doc was sitting just up there, even if Adam didn't see it that way.
As they made their way up the slope, Adam regretted that he hadn't been fast-thinking enough to pretend that he hadn't heard his father's shout. Not that it would have mattered, he thought. Hoss would never have gone along with it.
Ben and Paul were just sharing a joke about something when the two brothers reached their table. The doctor was wiping tears of laughter from his eyes and Ben was holding his stomach as his hilarity decreased to a chuckle. They looked up at the exact same time, and if Adam hadn't been out of breath and lightheaded from the walk uphill, he would have laughed at the comical sight of their happy faces dropping simultaneously.
"Adam, what happened son?!"
Ben immediately got up from the table's bench and took Adam's free arm, his dark eyes swimming with worry.
Adam let out a sigh. "Pa, I'm fi—"
"Let's have him sit down Ben." Paul also stood and added his own hands to the mix. "Just here in the shade."
The three men dropped Adam down onto the bench and he didn't complain. He just wasn't up to it.
He heard them talking next to him and surmised that his father must be questioning Hoss. But it felt so good, being in the shade, it didn't seem worth the effort to listen in on them. He took of his hat and wiped his face with a damp sleeve when he realized that he was being asked a question.
He looked up with squinting eyes.
"Sorry Paul, I didn't hear you."
Paul's frown deepened. "Have you been drinking water today?"
"I guess not enough." Adam lowered his head into his hands, pressing his palms against his eye sockets to ease the relentless pressure.
"Headache?" Paul asked.
Adam nodded without looking up.
"Nausea?"
There was a slight grimace, then another nod. Adam felt his father's hand come to rest on his back. Voices melded together again, and Paul called for something, but Adam couldn't make sense of the words, it was too hard to concentrate.
A minute or so had passed when a different voice suddenly penetrated his hazy mind.
"Will he be all right?"
Something made him lift his head and he turned to his right, looked straight past his father and brother and at the blurry outline of a person standing just a few feet away. As his vision cleared, his eyes finally settled on the most beautiful woman he'd seen in his life.
He thought that she must be real because Paul was standing next to her and she was holding a bowl which he was dipping a cloth into. Adam vaguely heard his father say something, but he couldn't take in anything else than her.
She looked like an angel. Her face was oval-shaped and perfect; her complexion pale and fine with a tinge of rosy-pink spreading along her cheekbones. Long, earthy brown hair tumbled down her shoulders like a vivacious river, allowing glimpses of ivory skin beneath. She wore a cream-colored dress which fitted her petite but shapely body tightly, and there were pink ruffles at the bottom of the full skirt and a matching bow tied at the front of her bust. When she turned a pair of striking, forest-green eyes on him, and walked in his direction, Adam's breath caught in his dry throat.
Somewhere in his confused mind, his manners all of a sudden sprang forward, and he was overcome with the need to introduce himself to her in a proper fashion.
He abruptly pushed himself to his feet, unknowingly almost headbutting his father who'd been leaning over him. For a split second, he stood there swaying like a grass stalk in the wind until Hoss grabbed his arm and Paul's appalled voice rang out.
"Adam! for Heaven's sake, sit down!"
He all but fell down onto the bench again. A cool, wet cloth was pressed against his forehead and his eyes closed at the instant relief.
"Now, I want you to drink all of this," Paul said. "But slowly and a little at the time."
Opening his eyes, Adam saw that a large glass of water had been placed in front of him. He took a deep swig of it and savored the feeling of the soothing water trickling down his parched throat. Already he began to feel more alert and he took the cloth from the hand holding it against his head.
Cautiously, he glanced up. She was still there. She was just on the other side of the table, watching him with such genuine concern and compassion that it seemed to pour out of her.
Paul cleared his throat loudly.
"Well Madeline, this is the one I told you about. One of my most terrible patients, only to be outdone by his father. Adam Cartwright, Ben's oldest son." Paul looked at Adam. "Adam, this is Miss Madeline Delaney, my niece."
Adam's gaze never left her, and as he lowered the cloth from his temple, he finally got his mouth to work.
"Very pleased to meet you, Miss Delaney."
He added a little half smile and was pleased to see her lips curve also as the little creases on her brow lessened marginally.
"I am pleased to meet you too, Mr. Cartwright."
She paused uncertainly, then looked away from him and addressed his father and brother.
"Uncle Paul speaks so well of the Cartwright family. I am happy to finally meet all of you."
Adam latched onto every word. The soft sound of her voice seemed to ease the painful pounding in his head.
"Perhaps you gentleman would like some lemonade?" she asked with a smile.
"That would be lovely, my dear," Paul said, and took the bowl she was still holding. Madeline nodded and after glancing briefly at Adam again, she turned to walk back to the pavilion.
Adam's eyes followed her until the moment she disappeared from his sight, then he drank down the rest of the water.
"Son, I think you should lie down in the shade by the tree. Just to rest up for a while, nobody will see out here."
Adam looked up at his father with a wary expression. He really didn't like the idea, he wanted to stay and wait for Madeline to come back, to find out more about her. Paul never mentioned he had a niece. But at the entreating looks on his father's and brother's faces, he acquiesced.
Hoss made it comfortable for him and laid a blanket down in the grass around the other side of the tree before helping him lie down. Flickers of golden light peeked through the roof of leaves above him and Adam felt a bit like he was floating as he gazed up at it. Even though he only meant to rest his aching head a little, he was asleep within a minute.
xXXx
When Adam woke up, it was late afternoon and it took him a while to remember where he was. He lay on his back, trying to figure out just how long he'd been out of it when he sensed a presence beside him. Turning his head, he saw his youngest brother sitting against the tree, a pocketknife and a piece of wood in his hands.
"Joe?"
Joe's eyes darted to him and he quickly put down the items.
"Hey there, older brother." Joe scooched closer. "You know, it took me almost an hour to figure out where you and Hoss had disappeared to, and then I find you here, sleepin' the day away." His voice had a teasing tone to it though it sounded a little forced and then his expression turned solemn. "Adam, we're real sorry. We just didn't see that it was Mrs. Stewart and those folks talking to you."
Adam's mind was still slow with sleep as he tried to take in everything Joe was saying. He moved to sit up and the younger man quickly helped him. His headache had subsided to that tolerable, dull pain again and he put on a small smile for his brother.
"Don't worry about it Joe, it was just a mixture of things. I hadn't been drinking enough and it all got to me a bit. I'm fine now."
Joe gave him a skeptical look but didn't dispute Adam's words and the two brothers sat quietly for a while as Adam gathered himself. He casually began picking at the grass sticking up around the edge of the blanket. "Say Joe, did you ever hear Doc Martin mention anything about having a niece?"
A sudden, sly grin broke out across Joe's face and he leaned backwards with his hands on the ground.
"No, well, not until the war, that is. You met Miss Delaney, huh? She sure is something isn't she Adam? Hoss turns red whenever she—"
"The war? What do you mean until the war?"
"Well . . ." Joe drew out the word. "It wasn't long after you left, the doc told Pa that he was trying to find his niece who lived somewhere in the South. He said that he hadn't had any contact with her for many years. There was something about the doc and his brother, Miss Delaney's father . . . they didn't get along so well with each other, so they'd lost touch." Adam leaned forward, listening intently as Joe continued. "Well, anyway, doc got news that his brother had died, and he wanted to know what had happened to his niece.
"He was worried about her with the war and all, and Pa helped hire some detectives who managed to track her down. She's been here a few months now, livin' with the doc and working as a nurse. I've met her a few times."
When Joe finished, Adam sat back and resumed plucking the grass. "So, she . . . came here alone to live with Paul?"
"Yep. It's Miss Delaney," Joe said.
A pondering look settled on Adam's face. He was unaware that Joe was watching him until the younger man spoke in a patient voice. "You know, we did mention her to you the other day, but I guess you were a little lost in thoughts at the time."
Adam looked over at his little brother and when he saw the deep understanding in that soulful gaze, he was reminded again of just how much Joe had grown up.
"Yea, I guess I have been a little distant." He reached for his hat lying next to him on the blanket. "Now, I think I better go and tell that overprotective father of ours to stop worrying."
Ben and Hoss were sitting at the table, talking quietly together when Adam and Joe appeared from behind the tree, the former walking slightly unsteadily. Adam quickly assured them that he was feeling much better. He sat down on the bench, glancing discreetly around, but there was no sign of her. He noticed Paul was standing under the pavilion which was apparently a lemonade stand, tending to some customers.
Ben observed Adam carefully, trying to gauge how ready he was for the trip home. Seeing his oldest son so ill—practically dangling in Hoss' grip, on the verge of collapse—had scared Ben and now he just wanted Adam back on the Ponderosa. When he cautiously suggested that they head on home, Adam's face fell, and he agreed reluctantly. Ben misinterpreted the expression, thinking that his boy was feeling worse than he was letting on and that he dreaded the ride home.
The real reason behind Adam's disappointment was that he wouldn't get to see Madeline Delaney again that day. He felt that he'd made a terrible first impression; sweaty, dusty and unshaven and probably looking just as bad as he'd felt. There were so many questions going through his head. He needed to know more about her.
To his annoyance, Adam was instructed to wait in the shade in that no-nonsense tone of his father's while the others got the horses and buggy ready. As he sat there alone, Paul came over with another glass of water for him. The doctor then took advantage of Adam's newly restored alertness and began questioning him thoroughly about his health. The dark Cartwright's reluctant answers concerning how much food and sleep he was getting, were insufficient at best, and the questioning turned into one of those infamous Doctor-Paul-Martin-lectures, topped op with a pointed finger waving in the air.
In the end Adam became defensive and interrupted Paul's rant by angrily stating that it wasn't by choice that he woke at night. Surprise gave way to understanding as the hard lines of Paul's features softened. But Adam turned away from the sympathy he saw in the doctor's eyes, and he began walking down the hillside towards his family.
Paul went straight to the pavilion where he kept his black doctor's bag in a cool corner. He'd decided to bring it along for the day, knowing that at a big fair like this, a doctor's assistance was often needed for some reason or other. At that instance, he was glad that he had and after grabbing an item from the bag, he went back out to follow the second-worst of all his patients. Paul smiled a little when he saw that Hoss had walked up the hill to meet Adam and that his supporting hand had not been shrugged away.
When the brothers had made it to the horses, Hoss went over to the buggy while Adam began untying Sport's reins. He was already regretting his angry outburst at Paul, when he sensed someone come up next to him.
"Adam, take this," Paul said and discreetly slipped a small, dark brown bottle into Adam's hand. "Now, before you say anything, I know you've always been reluctant to take laudanum, but your body needs proper rest and this will help. Just add four or five drops to water or a glass of brandy before you go to bed."
The doctor lowered his voice, but his tone held the same dry formality that he typically addressed his friends and patients in. "Just give it a try. I doubt that it will make things worse than they are now."
Hard as it was to look up, Adam did, and he saw that Paul's habitual blank expression was in place. There were a couple of wrinkles between the doctor's eyebrows, but they were wrinkles of age rather than worry. Despite his unemotional countenance, there was the barest hint of a frown hiding there. Just a faint, down-turned twist to his mouth. It was the kind of frown that could be either from disapproval or sadness and although Adam had known this man and that frown for seventeen years, he still couldn't always identify what it meant. What made Adam drop his gaze, was when he briefly met Paul's eyes. Those eyes were knowing like a father's, which was highly impressive since Paul Martin had no children of his own.
Tightening his hold around the little bottle, Adam turned around to put the laudanum in his saddlebags.
"Well Paul," Ben said as he came over from the buggy, "you'll give our best to that lovely niece of yours?"
"I will Ben. She should be back soon with the items to make a new lemonade batch. You all take care now!"
With a pointed look at Adam, Paul turned around and headed up the hillside again.
Adam was about to attempt mounting Sport when he noticed his family were standing around. One dark eyebrow came up as he studied them.
". . . You fellas ready, or?"
Joe and Hoss seemed to have acquired a fascination with the dirt on the ground and their father shifted uncomfortably.
"Well, son . . . ah . . ."
There was a horrible moment when Adam saw his father glance at the wagon and he realized what they were thinking. All the supplies and items that had been bought during the day were stacked neatly at one end of the buggy, leaving plenty of free room.
"No. Absolutely not."
The words were calm and controlled and the look Adam bestowed on them would have made anyone other than his family shy away like a spooked herd of cattle. Just the thought of riding in the back of the wagon with his horse tied to it—for the whole town to see—was almost enough to make him physically shudder.
With that, he mounted up and sat as straight in the saddle as he could while he waited for them to get ready. Hoss and Joe shrugged their shoulders while Ben shook his head and cursed his stubborn firstborn. A minute later, the family set off and rode home to the Ponderosa.
Later that evening at doctor Martin's house, Paul walked down the hall to the sitting room, carrying a tray with a teapot and two cups. He paused in the doorway and smiled as he observed Madeline. She was sitting in the burgundy red wing-back chair by the window, facing out across the street. A long piece of lavender colored silk lay draped across her lap and a needle rested in her dainty hand, forgotten, as she looked out at the darkening sky. She was the picture of beauty—Paul was well aware of that—and he couldn't help but feel proud that this was his niece.
Since she had come to live with him, it what as if a void in his life had been filled. A void he hadn't even known existed. His house had become a home and his life had been given a purpose outside of work. She was his family.
She had been only ten years old when he'd fallen out with her parents. Paul and his brother Jacob had always had a strained relationship and when Jacob married a woman from Virginia and moved to the South, they hadn't seen too much of each other. Although Paul had utterly adored the little Madeline from the day she was born, the visits he'd made to his brother's family were always tainted by arguments between him and Jacob, often fueled by politics and their opposite opinions on so many matters. Jacob was a wealthy and well-liked man in his community and Paul, being from the remote and "uncivilized" part of the country where savages roamed free, had always felt that his older brother saw him as an embarrassment. In the end, there had been one terrible argument between the two where such hateful and hurtful things had been said that they'd agreed to cut the contact.
Paul had left the day after the argument, and he remembered crouching down in front of his little niece to give her a hug before they'd done their little farewell ritual. After every visit, Paul would always ask the same question and Madeline would give the same answer.
"Now, my little Belle . . . you won't forget your Uncle Paul until next time I see you, will you?"
"No Uncle Paul, there's a place in the heart 'specially made for uncles so they never get forgotten!"
Those light green eyes, so innocent and honest, had seen straight through him, and he'd known that she knew. She'd just hugged him tight once more and then he'd driven off in a carriage, the tears stinging in his eyes as he'd left the little girl behind.
That was eighteen years ago and looking at her now as she sat gazing out of the window, all grown up, he could hardly believe that she was really here with him. Her eyes were a deeper and darker green now, and a shadow passed across his face as he thought of all the hurt that little girl from so long ago had been forced to go through in her life.
With a sigh he broke free of his reverie and walked into the room, placing the tray on the table in front of her.
"Here we are, some nice hot tea with milk and a little sugar, just as you like it."
Madeline turned to him, slightly startled.
"Oh, Uncle Paul, I am sorry," she said, reaching for the brass needle case lying on the table. "I was going to bring you some tea in your office, but I just lost track of time."
"It's all right Madeline, I was finished with work for today anyway. I thought I'd come and keep you company."
Paul sat down on the elegant burgundy settee opposite her as she stood and folded the silk material, careful not to wrinkle it.
"Is that the new dress you're working on? It's coming along nicely indeed."
"Thank you." She gave him one of those soft smiles that could melt the coldest of hearts. "It is such beautiful material, I only hope my limited skills as a seamstress can do it justice."
"Judging by the other dresses you've made so far, I'd say you'll do just fine."
Madeline placed the fabric and thread on a small upholstered bench and took her seat again. Paul sat back against the embroidered cushions in all different shades of dark red while she took her cup and held it in her lap, her face turned towards the window again. A few minutes went by, then Paul leaned forward and took his own cup from the table.
"There was a time when I would offer my little Belle a penny for those deep thoughts, but I assumed you'd grown out of that game."
Her full lips curled into a smile. "You haven't called me that in such a long time. I didn't think you'd remember . . ."
"You may think your uncle is getting old, my dear, but I'll have you know that my memory gets sharper with every year that passes."
Paul grinned slyly, and Madeline shook her head at his teasing.
"Oh, I was just thinking about today. . ." She began stirring the tea with a silver spoon. "About all the people I met, friends and acquaintances of yours."
"Yes, you were certainly kept busy throughout the day. Even though you've been here for two months there were still a few people who thought you were just a nurse I'd hired on."
"I can understand why they would think that. I haven't exactly been going out of my way to be social around town since I arrived."
Paul knew the reason for that, but he wasn't sure if she wanted to talk about it or whether that was even what was truly on her mind. He didn't reply, he just waited patiently for her to continue.
"I thought about the Cartwrights too," she said, her eyes fixed on the creamy brown liquid and the swirling pattern she was creating with the spoon. "They seem like a very nice family."
Lifting his teacup, Paul hid the smile growing across his mouth. "Yes. Yes, they certainly are."
She paused for a moment, continuing to stir the tea almost mechanically. "Of course, I've already met Mr. Cartwright quite a few times . . . and his two younger sons, Hoss and Joe. Who have all been so very nice to me and welcoming . . ."
"Mm-hmm."
"Well, I was wondering . . . well, Mr. Cartwright's oldest son—"
"Adam."
Madeline's hand stilled and she looked up at her uncle's interruption. There was amusement dancing in his eyes and a faint blush touched her cheeks.
"Yes, Adam," she said. Then her delicate, brown eyebrows pulled together, and she gazed intently at her uncle. "Is he . . . well?"
Paul looked down and set his cup back on the table.
"No, he was certainly unwell today. Dehydration and heavy sun exposure will do that to anyone."
He raised his head and after one brief glance at his niece's eyes of pure sincerity, he knew that he could feed them nothing but the truth. He expelled a breath, and with that breath, his initial plan to sidestep the real issue. "That's not what you meant, is it?"
Brown, curly tendrils danced against her cheek as she shook her head, the questions evident on her face.
"Adam . . . has been having a rough time since he got back," Paul said. "At least that is my impression. He has always been very closed off when it comes to such matters. I told you that he fought on the side of the North . . ."
"Yes, you did. I also remember Mr. Cartwright saying how anxious he was for him to return home when the war ended."
"I am afraid that although the war has ended, there are thousands of soldiers across the country who are still engaged in their own private battles." Paul's expression turned gloomy for a second, then he looked over at Madeline again.
"He was a captain in the Union Army, you know."
Surprised flickered in Madeline's eyes. "No, I wasn't aware of that."
"From the things Ben has told me, I've gathered that Adam was in many of the biggest battles. When I went to see him a few days after he returned home, he looked exhausted. Tired and visibly thinner than when he left four years ago. All things you would expect, I suppose." Paul's voice became a mutter, and he spoke mostly to himself. "What concerns me, is that he practically looked the same today as he did when I saw him more than a week ago."
Silence fell as Paul stared out into the room.
After a while, Madeline's voice floated across the table like a soft breeze blowing through the dark clouds of her uncle's solemn mood. "It will take time for people on both sides of the war to recover from everything that has happened these last dreadful years. From what I have seen of the Cartwright family, I have faith that they will endure this hardship together."
"Yes," Paul said. "They have certainly had more than their share of hardships."
His statement brought an expression of quiet understanding to Madeline's face. He'd already told her about some of the tragedies the family had gone through. When he saw concern begin to build in her eyes, Paul collected the thoughts that had strayed to the Ponderosa and all his attention fell on her.
"We all have hardships, Madeline. I hope you know that I am here to help you with yours in any way I can. With anything you need."
Madeline carefully placed her tea on the table, drawing in a deep breath. When she spoke, the intense emotions displayed on her face were mirrored in her voice.
"Thank you, Uncle Paul. I am so very grateful for everything you have done for me. If you hadn't found me and offered me a place here with you, I don't know what would have happened."
Paul leaned across the table, folding his hands around hers.
"Having you here with me is the greatest gift I could have ever asked for, Madeline. You are my family and I am so proud of the lovely young woman you have become."
Feeling his own emotions getting the better of him, Paul patted her hand gruffly.
"You also make the best coffee in the state of Nevada and it is rather pleasant that I'm now able to find certain documents in my office with the filing system you arranged."
Just as he'd intended, Madeline let out a little laugh.
"Now," he said, smiling, "I suggest that you drink that tea and prepare yourself for a crushing checkers-defeat."
Paul got up and went to collect the checker board while Madeline sipped her tea, turning to the window again and this time, she wore a thoughtful smile.