Author's Notes

Here we are, as promised, a long chapter. This one caused me some trouble (and underwent a few rewrites), but I decided to just post it now as it is. Hopefully, you will like it.

Thank you all for reading and reviewing.

Chapter 13

August 8, 1865

Wednesday the following week, Adam made another trip to Virginia City. He'd gone to collect the mail at the post office, noticing that there was a letter there from Washington D.C. addressed to him. He knew it had to be from Jim and it wasn't a message he'd ever want to read anywhere else than back at home in privacy, so he'd packed it in his saddlebags along with the rest of the mail.

When he was halfway to Paul's house a little while later, it occurred to him that he'd headed in that direction without even thinking about it. The thought of going to town and not stopping by to see Madeline . . . well, that was something he suddenly couldn't see himself doing. One thing Adam knew was, that it was very important to him—being welcome at the doctor's house. It was important that Madeline wanted to see him and he'd accepted his own need to be with her. Paul was another matter entirely, and Adam wasn't really sure how his old friend felt about the blossoming relationship between himself and Madeline.

When he arrived at the house, he tied Sport outside as usual and took the porch stairs two at a time. He decided to knock once and let himself in as he'd been used to doing at Paul's before he'd left for the war. He called out a greeting as he came into the foyer and the doctor's voice beckoned him into the sitting room.

"Hello, Adam. I was wondering when you'd be showing up this week."

Paul sat in his burgundy chair, scribbling notes onto one of the many papers strewn out on the table in front of him.

"If it's inconvenient, I can come back another time," Adam said, walking into the room. "I just wanted to say hi to Madeline."

"Oh, I am touched, my friend."

"You know what I mean, Paul." Adam smiled and sat down on the settee opposite the doctor. He laid his hat on a clear corner of the table and read a few words on one of the papers. "Is that work? How come you're not in your office?"

Paul finished writing the sentence he was in the middle of and looked up at the Cartwright for the first time.

"I came in here to provide some moral support to Madeline. She has been like a little nervous bird all morning."

"Nervous?" Adam leaned forward. "About what?"

"Well, she has a social club meeting this afternoon . . ." The doctor's speech dissolved into a mutter as something came to his mind which he needed to write down.

"And? There's something more?" Adam probed, making Paul look up again.

"Ah, yes. She ran into the McCoy sisters the other day and Maisy told her about this annual dressmaking contest that the club is having on Thursday." Paul scratched his temple with the pen. "Well, that's tomorrow now . . . anyway, Maisy urged her to enter a dress in the competition. I'm fairly certain that my modest niece wouldn't even have considered it, if not for the fact that Maisy was most insistent and has apparently told some of the other women of her talent."

Shaking his head, he continued, "One thing that Madeline is truly terrible at, is saying no. She is so concerned about disappointing people, so she reluctantly agreed and now she has been fretting ever since, trying to finish her new dress for this afternoon. The judging is tomorrow."

"Paul, she is very gifted. Whatever this new dress looks like, I'm sure she has no reason to worry."

"I know that, and you know it, but try convincing her of it."

Reclining back against the backrest of the settee again, Adam contemplated what he'd been told. A couple of minutes passed, then he shook himself free of his thoughts and looked across at his friend.

"Where is she now, Paul?"

The doctor had returned to his scribbling and waved in an undefinable direction with his free hand.

"In the end I couldn't take anymore of her fussing, so I told her to go and put the thing on and promised that I would give my honest opinion. She'll probably be down in a minute."

It was quite comical really, that the doctor had barely finished speaking when the two men heard her come down the staircase in the hall. She suddenly appeared in the doorway, her attention fixed on the sleeve she was adjusting.

"All right now. Remember, you promised you'd be—" She broke off when she looked up. "Adam . . ."

Nothing could have possibly prepared him for the sight of her. He sprang up from the settee just as Paul dropped his pen which rolled along the papers and landed on the carpet. Adam's mouth opened, but for the life of him he couldn't form actual words. Slowly, he dragged his gaze across her body, taking in the remarkable dress. He recognized the emerald green material at once, but even though she'd described her ideas for the dress when he'd purchased the silk for her, this was far beyond anything he could have envisioned. The large skirt appeared quite simple in the sense that it wasn't adorned with details such as bows or ribbons, yet the cascading tiers and numerous, flowing gatherings had a dramatic and eye-catching effect. He was losing himself in the deep green color, but then noticed the delicate gold patterns spreading vertically downwards to the base of the dress—like gold branches stretching out across a green canvass. The golden decoration was clearer where it decked the bodice and Adam's eyes lingered on her slim waste for longer than they probably should have. Short puff sleeves clung to her upper arms, gathering just above her elbows and the curves of her shoulders were laid completely bare. Finally, he beheld the rose-patterned white lace which ran along her bust-line and if he'd been anywhere close to regaining his equilibrium, the sight of her plunging neckline set him straight back to being a tongue-tied mess.

This was one occasion where Paul found no amusement in Adam's stupor since the doctor was just as stunned as the young man to his side. Madeline looked down at herself, discouraged by the two men's silence.

"I realize that one wouldn't wear such a dress very often around these parts . . . but Maisy said that the goal was to make a proper ball gown. Or at least something that resembles one."

Adam felt her insecurity and made a strong effort to pull himself together.

"Madeline, you look . . . it's spectacular . . ."

She raised her head and his eyes bore into hers as he tried to convey the utter admiration and awe that he lacked the words to describe.

"I agree," Paul mumbled, feeling a bit overwhelmed. "I am quite speechless, my Belle . . ."

"Do you think they will like it?" she asked as she smoothed down the skirt. "The ladies from the dress shop are entering dresses for the contest and they are all so very talented. I hear that a woman who works at a successful clothes-shop in New York will be judging the competition tomorrow. Apparently, she is a friend of Mrs. Stewart."

"Hmm." Paul looked a little perturbed and stuck his hands in the pockets of his grey vest. "I hope this woman doesn't try to whisk you away to New York and offer you a job. You clearly have a winner here."

"Uncle Paul, I have no chance or wish to win this contest." She smiled humbly, her eyes green as the dress—bright and honest. "Just having my dress on display alongside the beautiful creations the other ladies will come up with will be an honor in itself."

Facing Adam, her cheeks heated when she saw the engrossed way he was observing her.

"I must thank you again, Adam, for gifting me this wonderful material. It was truly a joy to work with."

"You're welcome, Madeline. And believe me . . ." he paused, a cheeky curl pulling at one side of his mouth as he allowed himself another slow, appreciative look-over of her. "I'm being paid back ten times over right now."

She dipped her head shyly, gazing up at him and he reveled in the generous brush of those dark lashes. The sudden electric atmosphere between the two threatened to fry the good doctor standing in the middle of it.

"Ahem . . . I think some coffee would be quite in order right about now. Adam, perhaps you would like to help me prepare some in the kitchen while Madeline gets changed again, hmm?"

It may have been phrased as a question, but when Adam unglued his sight from Madeline, he realized that he would indeed be going to the kitchen one way or another—Paul would make sure of it.

"Okay, Paul." His words were directed at the doctor, but he didn't move, he just looked back at Madeline again.

She was having a hard time holding in her laughter when her uncle's eyebrows compressed together above the rest of his already tense face.

"Well, come on then, lad! We haven't all day."

With a rather insistent push to the younger man's back, Paul got Adam moving towards the doorway, but he missed the little wink that was delivered to Madeline on the Cartwright's way out of the room.

Standing in the sitting room, she listened to them walk down the hall and she folded her hands across her stomach, attempting to settle the tickling uproar going on inside her. Her head tipped back as she offered a heartfelt smile to the heavens.

Oh, goodness, he is so charming!

The nerves that had been plaguing her all morning were now replaced by the warm, riveting feeling that took over her body whenever she was with him. Spinning around, she headed into the hall and for the stairs, determined to change quickly so she could join them for coffee. She'd hoped that he would stop by soon and she was excited to share the news of her new job at Sally Piper's restaurant with him. In a few hours she would be heading off to the social club's meeting place—"The Western Women's lodge"—and thanks to Adam, she was actually beginning to look forward to it.

xXXx

It was four o'clock in the afternoon and Virginia City's C Street was unusually busy for a Wednesday. The reason was, that there was to be a show at Maguire's Opera House in the evening which had drawn many folks into town. The local restaurants and hotels were packed with parties of people sharing dinner before going to the event. The festive mood of the town was not shared by everyone though, but few would have noticed the lone, young woman's heavy gait and quiet demeanor.

"Madeline, wait!"

Madeline halted on the boardwalk, struggling to breathe past the painful lump in her throat. She pressed the ribbon box hard against her chest and steeled herself before turning around. When she did, she saw Maisy hastening towards her, the girl's shoes clattering across the wooden floorboards. The redhead came to a stop and her usually chirpy face looked contrite.

"I am so sorry about what happened, Madeline. I truly hadn't imagined that they would react like that . . ."

"It's all right, this isn't your fault." Madeline forced a small smile and spoke kindly to the younger woman. "I am hardly in a position to disagree with their decision. Really, it's fine."

"But Madeline, they were terrible to you!" Maisy's hands fiddled with each other as she ducked her head. "If only I hadn't convinced you to enter a dress in this contest . . ."

"Maisy, please don't concern yourself." Madeline shifted the box onto one arm and reached out with the other to still the girl's fidgeting. "At the meeting last week, I got the impression that not all the ladies were in favor of my presence there. I probably should have been prepared for what happened today. It really isn't your fault."

"I wish things were different. I wanted to say something, I really did, but . . . I just . . ."

"I understand." Madeline withdrew her hand and straightened her back. "Thank you for all your kindness. Perhaps we will see each other around town still. I hope you will come by Sally Piper's restaurant sometime, I'll be working there four days a week."

"Yes," Maisy said, a blush spreading beneath her freckles. "I will . . .try to stop by."

The last thing Madeline wanted was to put the young girl in an awkward situation with the women at the club, so she adopted a light attitude, overlooking the fact that the blue eyes wouldn't meet her own.

"As I say, if you should get the time. I realize that you are a very busy young lady." That made Maisy's head drop even lower, but Madeline continued, smiling genuinely. "Have a pleasant evening, Maisy."

"I—" The younger woman made a fleeting attempt to look up, but offered empty, muted words instead. "Thank you, and you too, Madeline."

Madeline turned and fought to make her walk appear self-assured and unaffected as she continued down the boardwalk. It seemed an impossibly long trek back to her uncle's house and although her legs were moving, she felt strangely detached from her physical self as hurtful comments and mocking looks replayed through her mind. The earlier joy and confidence she'd built up after spending almost two hours in Adam's company had been ripped out of her heart and smeared all over the busiest street in town for everyone's entertainment. At least that's what it felt like to her at that moment.

When a voice called out to her, a voice she'd come to cherish, a sense of wobbling relief fused with sudden panic gripped her.

"Hey, Madeline!"

She stopped and turned sideways, watching as Adam loped across the street to her. He jumped up onto the wooden floor and smiled broadly.

"I didn't think you'd heard me."

"Hi Adam," she said, giving him a glimpse of her dimples. "I thought you were going back to the ranch?"

"Yea but, uhm, I stopped to have a refreshment . . ."

He seemed a little hesitant then, but she didn't know why and she glanced across the street to where he'd just come from. She saw Sport tied outside the Bucket of Blood saloon and guessed that Adam was unsure about what she thought of such establishments.

"I bumped into my friend Dave from the Territorial Enterprise and yea, we got to talking and suddenly more than an hour had gone by."

"Well, you must have had a nice time together then." There was mild humor in her tone, but the next thing she said was sincere as her expression. "He seems like a nice gentleman, Mr. Howell, and he is a good friend from what I hear."

"Yea, old Dave isn't all that bad."

It was quite funny to her, seeing how he visibly relaxed with the knowledge that she didn't mind him frequenting saloons. There was a brief silence, then his sight flickered down and landed on the box in her arms.

"Weren't you all supposed to leave the entries overnight for the judging tomorrow?"

"Yes, well, I decided not to enter the contest after all. There were so many wonderful dresses, more than enough, really. Perhaps I will enter next year."

She managed to keep her voice convincingly cheerful and looked down at the box to readjust the perfectly centered blue ribbon.

"Madeline?"

At the best of times, it took quite some effort for her to handle that penetrating hazel gaze and prevent all her darkest secrets from spilling out. The situation now, did not qualify as even a good time and although part of her craved the care she knew was reflected in his eyes, she couldn't bring herself to look up at him. She clasped the box harder.

"Yes . . .?"

"Tell me what happened."

"I don't know what you mean, Adam." To her dismay, her voice shook as she said his name. It took a moment for her to compose herself before she attempted to continue. "I simply didn't care to enter the contest after all."

His warm hand was suddenly on her back and he gently guided her away from the busy street and people—closer to the building they were standing outside of.

"Now, tell me what happened."

She stared at the box as if she wanted to crawl into it, her heart beating painfully in her chest and then he brought her fragile defense crashing down with one simple word.

"Please . . ."

When she lifted her chin, she saw pure concern and care for her in his intense expression. Amazingly, she calmed in an instant and the hurt that had been eating away at her for the last half an hour seemed to diminish.

"It is of no matter now. I was dismissed from the competition, the ladies of the board agreed on it."

He frowned and leaned closer to her. "But why?"

"I suppose it was mostly Mrs. Stewart's opinion that was the deciding factor . . . but there is no need to dwell on it now."

"What did she say?"

Madeline studied him closely and she sensed that he not only wanted but needed to hear the details. As she related them to him, she spoke steadily and without shame, her eyes unwavering from his.

"Since I have only been here for a few months, Mrs. Stewart argued that I had no place in the contest because I am not what she considers a proper part of Virginia City's community. She also said, that because of my southern roots, my comprehension of this town's values is lacking, as is my appreciation for its ideals and therefore, it would be inappropriate if I took part in the competition."

The following seconds stretched out between them as he stared at her.

"She . . . what?" he finally got out.

Madeline sighed, resettling the box in her arms.

"I am not sure how many of the other women actually agreed with what Mrs. Stewart said, certainly not all of them, I hope. But she is the president of the association and she has made a decision."

Adam was quiet, and when Madeline peered back up at him, she was very surprised to notice that his features were set in a way she'd never seen before. He was looking down at his boots, both hands on his hips and his mouth was pressed tightly together. The black hat hid the top half of his face and she was suddenly mesmerized by the way his rugged jaw was clenching, the muscles working in his cheek.

Abruptly, he snapped his head back up and held out a hand.

"May I have that?"

She wordlessly handed him the dress box which he took under one arm.

"I'm going to pay Mrs. Stewart a visit. Would you like to come with me or would you rather wait for me here?"

Madeline's eyes grew wide, but the look on his face left her in no doubt about his intention.

"Adam, there is no need for this . . . it's only a silly contest . . ."

"We go together then."

Before she could get out another word, he gripped her hand firmly and set out on something close to a march down the boardwalk—in the direction of the club's lodge house.

"Adam please, this really isn't necessary! I don't want to cause any trouble . . ."

"I'm sorry, Madeline, but I can't let this pass. Any trouble will be on me, not you."

His tone was completely devoid of emotion, yet his words were uncompromising. Madeline struggled to keep up with him, totally bewildered by his reaction. The thought of what was about to happen mortified her, but at the same time, the masculine aggressiveness emanating from him and the feeling of his strong hand gripping hers, made an odd sensation settle low in her belly. It was unfamiliar, but not exactly unpleasant, and she could do nothing but follow his lead on shaky legs. She unknowingly nestled closer to his strength when she noticed people watching them.

"Adam, people are looking . . ."

"Let them look."

Across the street, Paul had just been to visit a patient and was on his way to look in on young Lisa Banner's broken foot. The doctor came to a standstill when he eyed Adam and Madeline and he lifted a hand, about to catch their attention with a yell. He froze though, when he registered the dark Cartwright's expression. It was one he knew well—he'd known Adam since he was a boy—but Paul hadn't seen this side of him since before the war. He noticed that people were observing the couple and several cowboys subtly removed themselves from the sidewalk or well, basically from Adam's path.

Paul Martin was known for his perceptive nature among his friends, and as the doctor noted Madeline's obvious hesitance, the dress box under Adam's arm and the general direction they were heading, he was able to form a vague idea about the situation. He was a little startled by the sheer power of the sudden urge he felt to go to his distressed niece. It was still fairly new to him, experiencing these paternal emotions she evoked within him. What was more surprising though, was that he remained still, simply watching them disappear down the street. He had a feeling that whatever the trouble was, Madeline needed Adam more than him at that moment, and Adam needed to be there for her. A sense of acceptance flooded over him, and he embraced it, albeit grudgingly. In his heart he knew that there was no man whom he trusted more to take care of his niece than Adam Cartwright.

xXXx

Madeline inhaled deeply when they neared the Western Women's Lodge, but she made no attempt to dissuade Adam from entering the building. She was pretty sure that it would be useless. Her assumption was correct, and he went straight to the door, opening it without knocking. They stepped into the entrance hall and he gave her hand a squeeze before releasing it. He then strode into the main room where the sound of women's chatter and giggles could be heard, and Madeline followed him. Her anxiety grew when she saw that although the meeting had ended five minutes ago, the women were still all there, dotted around in groups all over the big room. It was almost like the ladies sensed a man's sudden presence and a dreadful few seconds followed when heads began turning towards them. Madeline stood tall under their scrutiny—Adam's support giving her the courage to do so—and she caught a glimpse of Maisy's startled face but otherwise avoided direct eye contact with anyone.

Mrs. Stewart was standing with a group of women by the table which held all the dress entries for the competition. Adam wasted no time and went straight over there with Madeline beside him.

"Mrs. Stewart," he acknowledged, paying no mind to the other women. "We have an entry for the dressmaking competition."

The elderly lady turned around and immediately went slack-jawed.

"Mr. Cartwright, what—"

"I understand that Miss Delaney's dress was dismissed from the contest," Adam interrupted without so much as blinking. "I've come to rectify that mistake."

Mrs. Stewart's face went through an interesting transformation from shock to frowning comprehension when she noticed the dress box under Adam's arm. Her features finally settled on unveiled disdain as she regarded Madeline.

"Mr. Cartwright, I am compelled to explain something to you. We, the women of the board, have unanimously decided—"

"Mrs. Stewart," Adam cut in, drilling her with a cool stare. "Allow me to explain something to you. Firstly, you should know that we're standing here now at my insistence, not Miss Delaney's, because I, for one, am unwilling to accept the unjust treatment she has been subjected to by you. Secondly, I recall that when you founded this association, you proclaimed that this would be a club open to all women of Virginia City. Well, I can assure you that Miss Delaney is very much a woman of this town and that she cares deeply about its people. Her work as a nurse and her participation in various charity events are proof of that. Thirdly, she is a relative of one of the most well-liked and respectable citizens around these parts and I have no doubt that many people will benefit from her presence here just as they have from doctor Martin's. She has more than earned her place in our society and I can safely say that my opinion on this matter is shared by my family since we all consider her a close friend."

Everyone's attention was riveted on him and Madeline was honestly just as stunned as the other women by the scene that was unfolding, and she was at the center of it all. Mrs. Stewart was too taken aback to formulate any kind of response and Adam showed no mercy as he continued on.

"As for your judgment that Miss Delaney's heritage somehow prevents her from appreciating this community's values and ideals, well, let me tell you that you're sorely mistaken. The fact that you would make such a statement shows that you know nothing at all about her. Remember, this town was built by men and women from both the North and the South, you were there, Mrs. Stewart. It is opinions such as yours which will delay and maybe even prevent the healing of this country."

His voice had been measured and controlled throughout the duration of the smooth delivery, and a deafening silence filled the room as his profound speech died away. Mrs. Stewart looked as if his words had physically struck her; she was red as a beet and her mouth flapped open and closed several times like a fish out of water. When she looked down in a clear attempt to escape his unrelenting gaze, Madeline actually began to feel sorry for the older woman.

"Now, unless you can present me with a valid reason why Miss Delaney should not be allowed to enter this contest, then I expect you to reverse her disqualification. Right now."

The atmosphere reached a peak of tension as the women waited to hear Mrs. Stewart's reply.

"Why I-I . . . yes, of course," she said and clumsily adjusted her huge, feathered hat to avoid looking at him. "I believe this has all been . . . a most terrible misunderstanding."

Adam's eyes narrowed, but then Madeline quickly broke in.

"Then I'm glad we have cleared things up now, Mrs. Stewart."

The elderly lady's head twisted towards Madeline, plainly astonished that the most unlikely person had come to her aid. Madeline offered her a gracious smile even though it didn't quite meet her eyes as her smiles usually did. Adam stayed still, his piercing stare never leaving the old woman.

"Yes, I . . . if you would just fill out your name over here, Miss Delaney, so that we can register you properly."

Mustering up what dignity she had left, Mrs. Stewart walked around to the other side of the table where some papers lay next to the dress entries. Madeline felt a gentle touch on her arm and took the dress box when Adam held it out to her.

"I'll wait for you outside, okay?"

His tone had suddenly lost its hard edge as he addressed her, and she knew that he wouldn't leave the room unless he was sure that she would be okay alone.

"Yes, all right. I will only be a minute."

Apparently satisfied with what he saw in the look of reassurance she gave, he nodded curtly. He faced the rest of the room and the still astounded group of women.

"Ladies . . ."

With a mannerly tip of his hat, he sauntered across the floor and disappeared out the door.

xXXx

A couple of minutes later, Madeline came out of the lodge and saw Adam standing with his back to her by the rail of the boardwalk. He probably felt that she was there because he half-turned.

"Shall I escort you home?"

"Only if you have the time . . ."

He put out his hand, indicating that she should go first, and a frown bloomed across her face when he kept his eyes directed downwards.

The walk back to her uncle's house was what she could only describe as strange. Not a word was said between them and he did not offer his arm to her as he usually did. Madeline kept stealing sideways glances at him, but his sight stayed fixed ahead and the faint lines across his brow made her wonder what he was thinking. The stretched silence gave her time to go over what had happened in the last twenty minutes since he'd run across the street to her from the saloon. It felt as though in that short time, something had fundamentally changed between them. Not in a bad way . . . or at least, she hoped it wasn't. But things were just different.

She'd seen a new side of him, one that somehow helped her to have a deeper understanding of his character and his reputation around town. Being the owners of the illustrious Ponderosa, the Cartwrights were naturally a great source of gossip in Virginia City and Madeline had inevitably overheard people talk about the family. While Adam was generally regarded as a decent and upstanding man, he was also someone who people wanted to avoid crossing at all costs, and today Madeline had seen why.

A soft smile spread over her lips and she chanced another look at him. Yes, he did have a temper . . . but it wasn't like the raging, turbulent kind that she'd sadly seen far too much of. Adam's temper, veiled by calmness and self-control, was the type that generated such a forceful air of intimidation around him, that it was ten times more effective than any amount of shouting or flailing arm movements. Suddenly, a shiver vibrated down her back. He had defended her honor. He'd gripped her hand so tightly, giving no thought as to what people might think, and he'd physically and verbally stated his solid support and high regard for her. She had never felt so protected in all her life. It was an entirely new feeling for her.

Now though, as she walked next to him, she felt confused and didn't dare take in the exhilaration building inside her. Something was clearly wrong, and when her uncle's house came into view, he still hadn't said anything or even looked at her. They climbed the stairs and she stood uncertainly on the porch.

"Would you like to come in for a moment?"

"Yes, I would. Thank you."

They went into the foyer and Madeline walked through to the sitting room as she removed the pin holding her blue felt hat in place. She took off the hat and brushed the decorative peacock feathers before finally setting it down on the upholstered bench next to her sewing items. When she turned around, Adam was watching her, his Stetson twisting in his hands, and his regretful expression was not at all what she'd expected to see.

"Madeline, I have to apologize to you . . ."

She blinked at him, her initial confusion evolving into full blown bafflement.

"I'm sorry if you felt that I forced you into an unwanted confrontation with those women . . . and for interfering in your affairs." He took a step closer to her, throwing his hat on the burgundy chair.

"It's just that I . . . the thought of you being treated that way by anyone . . ." He scratched at the nape of his neck. "Well anyway, it wasn't my place to behave like that."

A wave of affection surged through her, washing away the worry she had tried to hold at bay. Left behind was only that burning glow which arose inside her whenever he was around, a warmth kindled by his simple nearness.

"Adam, please, you have nothing to apologize for. What you did was . . . well, I haven't the words to express what it meant to me." She held his eyes, communicating her sincerity. "I wasn't offended by your behavior. Actually, I thought it was quite . . . chivalrous . . ."

She could see how his unease gradually subsided, but something in his gaze seemed to intensify and oddly enough, she already knew what he was going to ask next.

"There have been other incidents like what happened today, haven't there?"

"Yes . . ."

"That day at the general store . . .?"

"I have plenty of good memories from that day to quell one small, unpleasant episode with a few ill-mannered ladies."

She smiled at him, but it wasn't enough to overcome his serious countenance and his broad shoulders lifted and fell.

"I suppose Paul doesn't know about this?"

That struck something in her and a pleading note snuck into her voice. "No Adam, and you mustn't tell him, please. He would be so very upset . . ."

"Paul would be upset?"

He stared at her as if he thought he'd misheard something. When he realized that he hadn't, the disbelief in his hazel pools turned to exasperation and for the second time that day, his hands flew to his hips.

"Madeline, this isn't fair to you! Paul would be saddened, yes, but he would want to know about what's going on."

"But I—"

"You shouldn't have to deal with this sort of thing, and especially not alone."

Madeline's brows pulled tightly together, and she reached out to remove one hand from his waist, the spontaneous gesture stressing the urgency of what she was about to say.

"Adam, there is a considerable amount of people in this town who support that the South should receive further punishment for what has happened over the course of this four-year nightmare. Truthfully, their animosity towards those who are held accountable for starting the war is as understandable as it is upsetting. You know this better than anyone." He looked away from her and she unconsciously stroked the back of his hand. "I am one of the lucky ones. There are people so much worse off on both sides of this conflict. Yes, I have been met with hostility, but also with kindness. I believe that the people who are acting less than charitable towards me and other southerners will eventually move forward and start looking to the future instead of the past. But it will take them time. They need that time."

Her eyes flickered across his face, searching for any sign that he'd taken in what she'd said. At last, he turned to her again—his features calmer but his eyes now bright with wonder.

"How do you do that? You look at a problem from all perspectives . . . you find it in your heart to be understanding of everyone including those who are in the wrong—who haven't even treated you with common courtesy. Your compassion is . . ." He blew out a breath. "I honestly don't know whether to be awed or frustrated by it." Although they were standing so close, he still managed to move even closer to her. "I don't care about any of those other people, Madeline. I care about you."

Her hand went motionless on his as she gazed up at him, wide-eyed.

"I only care about you," he said.

An indescribable thrill ran through her. His voice sounded different now; there was a huskiness to it, making it even deeper, warmer somehow and a unique rush of heat, which had nothing to do with blushing, spread up her neck. She saw a peculiar look of realization sweep across his face, then he calmly bent his head down, and she instinctively closed her eyes as his mouth settled over hers. It started out as a light, warm caress on her lips, just like that day at Silver Creek. But now, after an afternoon filled with intense emotions and revelations on both their parts, she sensed that he needed something else—something more, and he pressed harder against her. His hands suddenly moved to her waist, and the cotton dress she wore was a decidedly inadequate defense against the burning sensation his touch evoked. She put her hands on his upper arms in an attempt to steady herself, but feeling his hard biceps under the smooth, black fabric only made the unfamiliar tingle in her belly increase and she fell slightly against him. When his coaxing tongue pushed against her sealed lips, she surprised herself as she parted them almost immediately, allowing him entrance into her mouth. The last trace of any conscious thought disappeared when his warm tongue danced around hers in eager exploration and she clung helplessly to his powerful frame, the taste of him enough to steal her breath away.

It was like nothing she had ever experienced before. So intimate, so personal it almost overwhelmed her. He was stirring untouched feelings whose existence she had been unaware of until now.

After a while, his movements became gentler again and he slowly, almost reluctantly pulled away from her face. Opening her eyes, she felt a little dizzy, but his hands were still on her hips, anchoring her in the turmoil of new emotions raging inside of her.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, his eyes resting just below her own. "That was . . . I shouldn't have—"

"Don't, Adam. Don't apologize for . . . that."

She stroked her hands up his arms to reassure him, but also because she couldn't contain her own strong need to do it. It seemed to work because he levelled his gaze with hers. A smile formed on his lips, those lips that had captured hers with such need just seconds ago.

"Would you like to come over for dinner tomorrow evening?" she asked with a smile of her own.

"Mmm. But after what I just did, I somehow doubt that your uncle will welcome my appearance."

"Oh Adam, don't say that, you know how fond he is of you," she said seriously, then flashed him a secret grin. "Anyway, I will refrain from telling him anything, you will be quite safe."

"I guess I'll risk it then."

He leaned forward, and she giggled into the quick kiss he placed on the side of her mouth. When he withdrew, he eyed her challengingly.

"Will you do something for me?"

"What is it?"

"Will you tell me if there are any other incidents like the one today? I want to know if you are treated like that again. By anyone—not just Mrs. Stewart and her friends."

She tilted her head to the side, touched and quietly amused by his protectiveness.

"And what will you do? Go knocking on doors all around town?"

"If that's what it takes."

There was no doubt in her mind that he meant it, but she forced some mild disapproval into her face.

"Okay, okay." He sighed. "I won't tell Paul anything and I won't confront anyone unless you give me your permission. But I would still like for you to tell me if anything happens. So you have someone to share it with at least."

"I suppose I can do that," she said softly.

"Good."

He relinquished his hold on her waist.

"I should get going now, Paul has already sent me home to the Ponderosa once today."

"Yes, that's probably a good idea . . . come by around six tomorrow evening?"

"I'll be here."

After grabbing his hat from the chair, he walked with her out into the hall and she saw him to the door.

"I'll see you tomorrow. And good luck at the contest."

"Thank you."

She smiled as she watched him walk out onto the porch, bounce down the stairs and then head back towards the saloon to pick up Sport. When she closed the door, she leaned back against it, giving her giddy excitement free rein. However unexpected this day had turned out, all she could think about now was him, his kiss and the way he had once again touched her heart.

"Hey Pa! Here he comes!"

Ben set his book aside, abandoning the page he had reread four times with still no understanding of what was happening in the plot. Rising from his chair, he went outside through the open front door just as Adam dismounted in the yard.

"Welcome back, son," he called. "We were beginning to think you'd forgotten where the post office is located."

"Hi Pa," Adam said, removing his saddlebags. "No, I just stopped by Paul's and then had a drink at the saloon."

Hoss and Joe caught the last words as they walked over from where they'd been sawing wood. The brothers shared a sly look and Ben regarded his eldest with a similar expression.

"Mm-hmm. And how is he?"

"Who?"

"Paul, son."

"Ah. He's just fine."

Adam threw the saddlebags over his shoulder and met his smirking brothers with a blank face.

"Well Adam, seein' as you've been havin' a right fine time visitin' with doc Martin and all"—Hoss unsubtly nudged Joe with an elbow and the two grinned wildly—"I figure it's only fair that you come and help us out with the wood that needs choppin'."

"Of course, Hoss. I'll be out in a minute, just let me get rid of this."

Giving them a friendly smile, he went straight past them and to the house.

The two younger brothers turned to each other, open-mouthed, and Ben chuckled as he followed after his firstborn.

When he came into the house, he saw Adam pulling out the mail from his saddlebags and placing it on the table by the fireplace. One letter in particular seemed to capture the young man's attention and he sat down in the blue chair while opening the cream-colored envelope. Ben walked over and went through the rest of the mail, but he glanced at his son frequently, trying to gauge his reaction to whatever was written on the paper in his hands. First, Adam smiled at the words, but as he continued to read, his forehead creased, and his eyes grew serious, giving Ben a bad feeling about what was to come. When his son eventually sat back in the chair, one hand rubbing across his mouth, Ben couldn't stay quiet any longer.

"Is something wrong, Adam?"

Adam faced him, looking a little dazed and Ben figured he'd probably thought that he was alone.

"No, Pa. Not really, I think . . ."

"You think?"

"I'm not sure yet. Well, it's confirmed, Jim says that my company is being sent here. At the moment the men are still on leave, but according to the plans they'll be coming here to strengthen the forts and deal with the Indian trouble. My guess is that they'll arrive here sometime in the fall."

Ben carefully rested a hand on the back of the settee, needing to steady himself. "I see . . . and you aren't sure how you feel about that?"

"No, I guess I'm not. It's a different part of my life, but one that still . . . matters. At least I think it does. And now it's coming here. It's hard to explain, Pa . . ."

"Yes, I imagine it is. This Mr. Wills who is the new captain of your company . . ." Ben hesitated when he caught the flinch in Adam's eyes. It was tiny, but he saw it all the same. Yet he continued, his growing fear spurring him on to say the things he knew Adam didn't want to hear. What he knew would hurt him.

"He's a good soldier?"

"He is a great soldier," Adam replied quietly.

"Then he'll take good care of them. He learned from you."

He wasn't aware of it, but Ben held his breath as he waited for his son's response.

"Yea. I guess you're right."

Adam stood, dropping the letter carelessly onto the table.

"I better get outside and help those two with the firewood before they get all riled up at me."

"All right, son. Hop Sing is making beef for supper. Maybe you would like to take on your old man in a chess tournament later. I'll go easy on you, I promise."

His attempt at lighthearted joking didn't sit well with his hopeful expression, he knew that, but Adam just smiled. A thin smile.

"Sure, Pa."

Once his oldest son had left the room, Ben sank down onto the settee. He swallowed painfully when the fear he had been fighting so hard to suppress, seemed to break free. It wrapped around his heart, making him feel suddenly cold on a perfectly warm afternoon. He felt like he was engaged in a desperate tug of war with the army and that despite his efforts, his boy was slipping away from him. The thought made his throat constrict and he knew that he would do whatever he could to keep Adam home where he belonged. Even if it meant his resentment. At least he would be safe and alive on the Ponderosa.