Thanks to all of you who have left a review; I am pleased to have some readers for this and I appreciate your views on the story.

IV

Adam sat at the large mahogany desk staring at the numbers on the ledger page but unable to concentrate. A cool cross-breeze came in the windows but once the sun began to lower, it would be chilly. It was that time of year, warming during the day but with the last remnants of winter returning at night. He considered he should have stayed home. After all, he had a dinner to attend and a wife to comfort and support.

Although the business was now legally Cartwright & Sons, Ltd. and encompassed silver mining, cattle and timbering, he was responsible for the financial aspects of all three ventures. Adam wrote the drafts for buying new equipment, new stock, and any other expenses the business incurred. He also wrote the paychecks for Hoss and Joe, Hop Sing, his father and himself. The Ponderosa expenses, well, that was a different set of books. Legally, Adam knew it was better that way and gave the job of paying the hands their monthly due to his father. But Ben was tiring of it and hoped to hand it over to Joe or Hoss but both shied away as if the lines of checks and balances exuded some poison.

Adam sighed and glanced out at the blue, clear sky just as he had when a child and bored with the school lesson. As the teacher droned on, he would hear the bees chirping, the occasional chwirk of a hawk, and once a bee had come in through the open window and the students all laughed as it buzzed about the teacher, Miss Harris, attracted by her rose water scent. She had batted at it and shrieked and ran about the room, finally heading out the front door, the bee in single-minded pursuit. Adam smiled to himself at the memory, but instead of the sounds of the natural world, he only heard the sounds of the street below drifting up. "The world is too much with us…" he said softly, "getting and spending, we lay waste our powers." He wanted to be home with Noah and Sibella on such a beautiful day, not in an office. And his thoughts slipped to the small house, away from the papers on his desk or the steel dip pen in his hand.

"Do you mind if I go back to the office? I still have the books to balance; it's close to the end of the month and I have to reconcile them so I can go over them with my father."

Sibella was in her chemise, stepping out of the skirts of her two-piece dress and then tossing it over the nearby chair. She eschewed a corset, depending on eating sparingly and taking exercise to maintain her slim waist. Besides, the boning in the bodice of the dress was uncomfortable enough. And thank goodness that voluminous skirts were passé!

Adam noticed Sibella's shapely legs in the knee-length pantalettes and felt desire rise in him again. How easy it would be to take her in his arms, kiss her neck and bosom, tumble her onto the waiting mattress and make the trip home even more worth his time. Especially since, as he stood watching, Sibella, with a dramatic flourish, pulled down the coverlet along with the top sheet. Adam caught the light trace of lemon verbena.

"No, I don't mind," she replied. "Since Noah's down, I think I'll take a nap myself since I'm sure your father will keep us late tonight. I do wonder who the old friend is who's come to visit. Might even be someone you know, Adam – an old friend of yours as well." Sibella slid between the sheets and pulled the top one up to her neck.

"I thought we would stay home tonight." Adam stepped closer to the side of the bed and looked down at her.

"Those two men in your office this morning are coming, aren't they?"

"You know they are. What have they to do with anything?" He waited. Sibella had been thinking and he didn't like the way the conversation was going.

"Well, they haven't been scolded by Sheriff Coffee and ordered not to talk about what happened this morning and I don't want them talking about it without my knowing what they say. I mean, they may not be accurate. And," Sibella said sitting up, "you know everyone in Virginia City will know all about it tomorrow morning. Besides I need something to…take my mind off things."

Adam sat down on the side of the bed. "Is that it? Because if you'd really like to go, think you're up to it, then we'll go."

Sibella lightly touched Adam's face. "Well…there's one more thing. Mr. Hancock was so nice to be concerned about me and he is handsome with his blue eyes and blond hair. I wouldn't mind seeing him again." Sibella looked up at Adam from under her lashes, smiling slightly. "If he let his hair grow a bit longer and wore an open-necked smock, he'd pass for a romantic poet."

"Is that so? A poet."

"Yes. Maybe I'll ask him if he ever writes poetry."

"Maybe you can be his muse. But, if I'm going to lose you to him, I may as well get my fill of you now," and Sibella laughed as Adam pulled off his jacket, pulled off his tie, and untucked his shirt before attacking the buttons on his weskit.

And she slid back down, stretching her arms over her head until they met the headboard, practically quivering with anticipation of the touch of his hands. She watched Adam until his polished black boots hit the floor and the tossed trousers landed on her neglected skirt. Then Sibella stretched out her arms, welcoming Adam into her embrace.

There was a slight knock on the office door, bringing Adam away from Sibella and how he had left her, tousled and sated and ready for sleep.

"Yes!"

The door opened and Miss Pear stood holding the doorknob. "I made a fresh pot of coffee. Would you like a cup?"

"That would be nice, thank you." She left and Adam closed the ledger. Later.

Miss Pear was quickly back with a white china mug of steaming coffee – black with two sugars.

"Anything else?" Miss Pear patiently waited.

"No, but have a seat, would you?"

Miss Pear flushed. Mr. Cartwright had asked her to stay. What was he going to say? Talk about? So many times, she had fantasized about his revealing his mistake of marrying his wife, of telling her that Sibella was silly and expensive and couldn't cook. Miss Pear knew how important the ability to cook was – her mother had repeatedly emphasized it - but all Mrs. Cartwright seemed interested in was overthrowing the status quo. "A troublemaker" Mrs. Pear had labeled her with a scowl. "A bohemian with all those ideas about women voting! What poppycock!"

But it wasn't that subject at all.

"Are you aware of what happened this morning – what Mrs. Cartwright saw?"

"Oh…um…" Miss Pear didn't want to appear an eavesdropper but she had heard, not only when Mrs. Cartwright rushed into the inner office, but after Mr. Philpot and Mr. Hancock had left. She hadn't even needed to stand beside the door to hear; Mrs. Cartwright wasn't discreet. "Well, yes, sir. From what I could gather, the milliner was killed – murdered. Is that what you're talking about?"

"Yes. It seems Madame Adair was killed." Adam couldn't bring himself to say murdered. "My wife was concerned and if my question is too intrusive, please tell me. But, would you know how to defend yourself from an attacker?"

"Mrs. Cartwright is concerned about me? About being attacked?"

"No, not you in particular but the women of Virginia City in general."

"Oh, I see." Miss Pear was a bit disappointed. She had hoped the "intrusive" question would be if she had a regular beau or not. But it wasn't. "You mean, could I defend myself if a man attacked me? Tried to murder me?"

"Well, I didn't mean murder, but if a man accosted you, could you protect yourself?" Adam was uncomfortable discussing such matters with Miss Pear but earlier that afternoon, while sitting on the edge of the bed, slipping on his boots, Sibella had placed her hands on his shoulders and kissed the back of his neck, telling him in dulcet tones that she had decided to carry her derringer tucked into her small reticule. After all, she had said while playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, she may one day need it; she just hoped she could shoot straight.

"I don't know that I could. Why do you ask? Is there a murderer on the loose?" For Mr. Cartwright to broach a subject such as her personal safety, it must be serious indeed!

"No, there's not a killer on the loose." Adam had feared his question might start a rumor and then a panic. "It's just that Mrs. Cartwright suggested that women be taught to handle firearms. Just in case a woman ever found herself in a situation…" Adam sighed; best to just say it. "If there was a class to teach women how to shoot – use a gun, do you think any women you know would be interested? Would you be interested?"

"Why yes. Both my mother and I might be, depending on who would teach it?"

"It's just an idea, as I said, a suggestion from my wife. I was thinking of giving her a few lessons and knowing her, she would say, and rightly so, it's almost as easy to give a class with five people in it as one. I was just interested in another woman's opinion. Thank you, Miss Pear. I hope I haven't kept you from anything."

"No, sir. Nothing – just some filing." She stood up. "Will there be anything else?"

"No."

Miss Pear, with a polite smile, left the room, pulling the door shut behind her. She often wondered why he preferred the door closed even when he wasn't with clients. Mr. Cartwright was a puzzling man, so solitary and yet, when around others, he seemed to enjoy their company. It was confusing and Miss Pear couldn't quite decipher him.

~ 0 ~

Adam stopped and pressed the thumb and forefinger of one hand into his eyebrows. He knew a headache was coming on if he continued with the small numbers on the pale paper. Glasses were probably a necessity as the 8's and 3's were starting to become confused, but he detested the notion that his eyes were beginning to fail him when it came to close work. He sat back. It was later than he had realized; almost 5:30 according to the clock. And he still had to wash, shave and dress for dinner at his father's house. And now there would be more guests than just Philpot and Hancock.

Suddenly there were raised voices in the anteroom, one of them he recognized as Sheriff Coffee's, one was Miss Pear's and the other – yes, it was Sibella's.

"Oh, hell," Adam mumbled, pushing back his leather chair, but before he could reach the door, Miss Pear, obviously distressed, opened it from her side and said, "Mr. Cartwright, it's the sheriff and…"

"Thank you, Miss Pear." Sibella said, walking in, her head lowered, Sheriff Coffee behind her, his brow furrowed and his mouth pursed to such a degree that he looked as if he was attempting to swallow his mustache. "Adam," Sibella looked up at him, her lips quivering, "Sheriff Coffee wants to arrest me!"