First, thank you for your supportive comments- this has been one busy week and limited my time for writing. I appreciate that you've stuck with this. And I am trying to move it along to the final reveal.

I received a positive guest review but I delete all quest reviews. But it contained a comment I wished to address:

Just one little thing: tintypes were black and white (sepia at best) but definitely not colored. So it would not be possible to ascertain the young man's hair color - other than dark or light.

Before I wrote about "tintypes", I looked at images of tintypes and apparently, as with photographs even today, they tended to fade with exposure to sunlight. Some of the tintypes were therefore, sepia, but all were originally B&W with gradations of "color" intensity. I found that blonde hair was easily discernable as was the difference between black hair and brown hair just as it was in B&W TV shows and movies. I assume reddish hair would be a little iffy – think Lucille Ball in I Love Lucy. That is why I felt it would be easy for Sibella and Adam to determine the corporal was blond. I didn't mean to intimate that the tintype was a "color" photograph.

IX

Sibella sat on the porch steps consoling a sobbing Noah. They had been playing a game of catch with a small blue India rubber ball, one of Noah's favorite toys; he often toddled about the yard and the house carrying it. She had tried to get Noah to roll the ball back and forth, but he would have nothing to do with that, grasping the ball in his small hands and throwing it as best he could. It would only hit the ground a foot or so beyond him, and bounce at odd angles. Sibella would then have to fetch it and roll it back to him since he couldn't yet catch. But Noah again attempted to throw it but the ball had bounced back at him and hit his face. So Sibella was rocking him in her arms, soothing him with small kisses and gentle words. Slowly his tears were subsiding but he was rubbing his eyes which meant it was time for a nap.

"Come along, my darling. We'll clean you up and give you a bottle and you can sleep for a bit." Sibella kissed the top of his head and then caressed his black curls. She put him down which only caused him to fuss anew and cling to her skirt, but it was necessary she stand before picking him up again. The child was solid and she could no longer rise while holding him.

Once cleaned and given his bottle, it didn't take long before Noah was asleep in his mother's arms. Sibella looked down at his face, one she loved, she had to admit, even more than Adam's. Noah had the same gentle mouth as his father's and also his coloring. Sibella sighed, thinking of Fanny Fitzhugh's "pirate" comment to Adam. Unfortunately, one day Noah would be just like his father, tall, handsome, hirsute and determined in both life and love – and probably the prey of many a predatory woman. Not for long enough would Noah be this sweet child asleep in her arms, an angelic creature.

Mrs. George took Noah from Sibella's arms and once she and her charge were upstairs, Sibella walked over to the side window that faced the barn. Chauncey was still sitting in front of it, his rifle at the ready, leaning against the barn wall, whittling. Sibella never understood the purpose of whittling and had once asked Adam who said that basically, it was soothing and a way to keep one's hands busy and then employed a vulgar simile which made her blush and him laugh.

Sibella set her jaw. Adam had told her to stay home but she had other plans and was now going to set them in motion.

~ 0 ~

"But, Missus, I was told to keep you home." Chauncey hadn't thought he'd be tested; the Mister had told him to watch for strangers, tell them they were trespassing and to leave - and shoot if he had to. But the place was usually quiet and other than the upkeep and repairs the Mister himself didn't do, Chauncey was allowed to rest his old bones.

"And keep Mrs. Cartwright here. I don't want her going to town."

"Want I should shoot her too?" Chauncey had asked with a grim.

Mr. Cartwright had laughed. "Just in the foot – so she can't walk!"

"Keep me home? Whatever for?" Sibella asked. Since it was a cool day, more like fall than early spring, she was dressed in a brown city suit and wore an à la mode hat resembling a man's bowler trimmed with quail feathers and a yellow grosgrain ribbon. She pulled on her yellow leather gloves, her reticule dangling from her arm, heavier than usual as Sibella had tucked her derringer inside.

"I don't know, Missus, but he was sure 'bout it – wanted to make sure you didn't go to town." Chauncey leaned over and spat tobacco juice making sure it was far enough away from the "Missus''" skirt so as not to splatter it.

"Oh, that I can understand. But what if I want to go see my father-in-law? He has guests, one is a woman and I imagine she's bored; there's really not much for a woman to do out here so she would probably enjoy a cup of tea and cookies with another female, don't you think?" Sibella didn't wait for an answer. "Did Mister Cartwright say anything about keeping me from going to the Ponderosa?" Sibella tried to look innocent; it never worked with Adam but she knew it would work with Chauncey.

Chauncey scratched his head, still holding the little knife with which he had been whittling. "Well…., no…., he didn't say nothin' 'bout that. But he did say to keep you here 'cause he didn't want you goin' to town."

Sibella smiled as sweetly as she could. "Oh, good, then he wouldn't mind if I visited the Ponderosa. Now, Chauncey, please be a dear and hitch Delilah to my buggy, would you?"

Chauncey hesitated but the Missus said she was going to the Ponderosa and she sure was looking pretty, so he quickly hitched up the horse. It was only afterwards, after Mrs. Cartwright had left in her little two-wheeled buggy and he had kicked back his chair resuming his whittling, that Chauncey realized Mrs. Cartwright had never really said where she was going.

~ 0 ~

As she drove along the dirt road to town, Sibella noticed a buggy had been along the same path recently – very recently; the ruts were fresh. It could have been Hoss going to pick up a copy of the Territorial Enterprise but he would probably ride his horse on such a trip. Unless he had supplies to fetch. But then he would have taken the buckboard and used two horses – there was only the indentations of one horse pulling the conveyance. Sibella smiled to herself; she was actually becoming conversant in tracking, at least in discerning fresh tracks from old tracks. She snapped the reins, imitating Adam's, "Gee-up" Delilah stepped faster and the ride became a bit rougher but Sibella wanted to see Miss Pear quickly. Hopefully, while Adam was at lunch; there were a few things she wanted to ask.

Delilah was pulled to a walk as they arrived in Virginia City. As always, Sibella's little cabriolet with it's red-trimmed wheels drew attention. No one else had such a rig. She pulled into the yard of the Barnett Livery Stable and a young man came out, grinning as he always did when he saw Mrs. Cartwright.

"Hello, Elvis," Sibella said, smiling down from her seat. "Have you room for me to park my buggy?"

"Oh, yes, ma'am." He reached up, took the reins and wound them about the brake handle and helped Sibella down.

"And would you water Delilah and give her some oats?"

"I sure will, ma'am. You just leave everything here and I'll see to your horse."

Feeling about inside the reticule for her small coin purse, Sibella unclicked the kiss-lock it and pulled out two-bits, handing them to Elvis. "Thank you so much, Elvis. I shouldn't be more than an hour – maybe a bit longer." And giving Elvis one of her sweetest smiles, Sibella held up her skirts and stepped gingerly across the yard, carefully avoiding the horse droppings, and headed to Adam's office.

Sibella was across from the Palace Hotel when she saw, without a doubt. Fanny Fitzhugh striding down the wooden sidewalk; she seemed not to notice the men tipping their hats nor their glances of admiration, but just walked looking straight ahead. She was dressed sedately in a dark blue dress, although the basque was a bit too long for her wide hips. And Fanny wore a huge hat that had a life-sized dove on it, its wings outspread as if it desperately wanted to remove itself from the gaudy headpiece. Fanny paused outside the entrance of the hotel and then, gathering herself, she went inside.

What will Adam think about this? Sibella considered. Fanny Fitzhugh visiting the hotel where Mr. Philpot and Archie Hancock were staying. And, the two men had separate rooms. That they all knew as at dinner the night before, Mr. Philpot had made a joke that if he were married, his wife would probably demand separate bedrooms because he snored so badly – and Ben's excellent brandy would only cause him to rattle the window panes with his rumblings. Therefore, he and Archie Hancock had separate rooms at the hotel against normal company policy.

Waiting another minute or so, Sibella held up her skirts to cross the street, and entered the hotel.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Cartwright," the desk clerk said. "What can I do for you?"

"Is it afternoon already?" Sibella asked. She had no idea what the desk clerk's name was but was flattered he knew who she was.

"Yes, ma'am – 20 past noon. Now what can I do for you?"

"Well, some railroad men are staying here…"

"Mr. Philpot and Mr. Hancock."

"Yes! Exactly! You certainly do know your guests. My father-in-law had them over for dinner last night and since they're leaving soon, I thought it would be nice if my husband and I had them over tonight. I mean they are doing business with the Ponderosa and you know what it's like; one must fȇte clients and make them feel special." The desk clerk nodded. "Can you tell me which rooms Mr. Philpot and Mr. Hancock are occupying?"

"Well, Mr. Philpot and Mr. Hancock left about 7:30 for breakfast. I can't understand why they don't eat here. Anyway, they returned, oh, must be 'most an hour ago but Mr. Philpot went back out." The desk clerk leaned in slightly and said in a lowered voice, "And a woman came in for Mr. Hancock. Didn't even ask which room – like she already knew the number. Told me not to disturb them and then she sashayed up the stairs."

"Oh, really." Sibella wanted to seem none too interested but she had to know. She leaned toward the clerk conspiratorially. "Was she wearing a large hat with a bird on it?"

"She sure was," the clerk said. "I couldn't help think but that she was lucky some hawk didn't swoop down from the sky and snatch that hat right off her head!" And Sibella couldn't help but giggle.