XII

"Wake up, sleepyhead, if you still want to go to Carson City with me."

Sibella rolled over on her stomach to avoid the cutting sunlight as Adam had raised the shade. "What time is it?"

"A little after 7:00. If you're not ready to go by 8:00, I'm leaving without you."

Sibella felt Adam push aside her hair and kiss the back of her neck. She smiled and then jumped at a smack on her derriere. Adam chuckled and walked out, closing the door. She stretched and smiled to herself and then covered her face, embarrassed when she remembered last night and her abandon. She had attempted to apologize to Adam for behaving so badly, so arrogantly, but he had instead, in the darkened hallway, kissed her neck, her face, her eyes and lifted her in his arms only to place her on their bed. Yes, she was forgiven, and in the dark, after their hungers had been sated, Sibella lay in Adam's arms and he told her how he loved her while lightly stroking her hair, lifting up her hand which had held the derringer and kissed it.

Before they drifted off into sleep. Sibella asked, "May I go with you to Carson City tomorrow?"

And Adam had acquiesced, saying that at least he would know where she was if she went with him. So, stretching once more, Sibella, rose to wash and dress and ready herself for the trip to Carson City. Adam had yet to tell her why he was going and her curiosity was piqued.

~ 0 ~

Roy Coffee sat with Adam at the breakfast table, drinking coffee and helping himself to toast and grape jam while Adam read the telegram. When he caught sight of Sibella, Roy stood.

"Mornin', Ma'am." He smiled. "You're looking mighty lovely."

"Why thank you, Sheriff. Please sit back down and enjoy your coffee; it's only one of the many things Mrs. George makes better than anyone else. Since she's a widow, we're the only ones to taste her cooking. Since you're a widower, I suppose you eat out a lot - why we must have you over soon and I'll ask Mrs. George to make her best meal – roast beef with onions, carrots and new potatoes. Isn't that a good idea, Adam?"

"Sibella." Adam sighed. "Please…"

"Why, that'd be nice, ma'am," Roy said, smiling.

Sibella smiled back and then gave Adam a triumphant look. She stood behind Adam, looking over his shoulder, holding her hat and gloves with the same hand. She had decided to wear a simple two-piece dress of light blue summer-weight wool and a grey shawl for the early morning chill. Her choice of hat was a simple straw boater with a dark blue ribbon and a silver, enameled hatpin the only embellishments.

"Adam, is that the telegram from Washington?"

"Yes, it is. If you don't mind…" Adam looked up at her leaning over his shoulder and Roy Coffee pursed his lips to keep from smiling; what a dance she must lead him.

"Oh, sorry, dear." Sibella, running her hand lightly along Adam's shoulders, went to her usual chair and poured herself some coffee. She picked a piece of toast off the platter and proceeded to butter it although she wasn't really hungry, but she broke off a piece and ate it, deciding to sit and listen; she'd find out soon enough about the wire.

"So, according to this," Adam said, holding the tan paper "Griffith was hanged as a traitor by the Confederacy for supplying false intelligence."

"That's what it says. I don't see any connection though between Madam Adair's death – or Miss Griffith, if that's who she was – and this corporal. I mean, Adam," Roy said, drumming the fingers of his left hand on the tablecloth, "maybe, Madam Adair and this young Corporal were engaged or something like that but I don't see why she'd be killed over it. And even if they were brother and sister like you think, it doesn't mean anything."

"But it very well might. Look, Madam Adair or whoever she was, had blonde hair and dyed it almost black. There's a reason she changed her identity. I doubt she was French and if she is Harriet Griffith – and I see no other reason why she would have those letters if she wasn't – then there's a reason she would go through all that trouble to hide her identity."

"Maybe she thought a French woman would do better running a hat shop than an American one; you know how women are when it comes to fashion and all that."

Sibella raised her chin. "No. How are we?"

"Sibella," Adam said. "Just…" He turned back to Roy. "Anyway, I'm heading over to Carson City to do some digging around. Miss Harriet Griffith lived in Carson City and maybe someone will remember her, maybe even Declan Griffith. She hasn't yet been buried, has she?"

Roy finished off his coffee. "No, not yet. Still over at the undertakers. The bank hasn't released her funds yet but if they don't by Monday, well…"

"If the funds aren't released, I'll pay for the burial," Adam said.

"You'll be reimbursed," Roy said, standing and picking up his hat that he had sat beside his coffee cup.

"I'm not worried about it," Adam said, but his voice trailed off as he stared at Roy's hat.

"What is it?" Roy said, looking at his hat.

Looking at Sibella, Adam asked, "Do you have a hat pin?"

"Well, yes." She picked up her hat and pulled out the hat pin. It was a favorite of hers, a 16th birthday gift from her favorite aunt, a long silver pin with an enameled pansy on the end. Adam took it from her and looked at it closely, then held it.

"Let me ask you something, Roy. Suppose you were set on murdering a woman."

Sibella gasped. "Adam! How can you…"

"It's just hypothetical, Sibella." He turned back to Roy. "You, a man, want to kill a woman. Would you pick up a hat pin and stab her?"

"Well, no. If I wanted to kill a woman, I suppose I'd strangle her or…now that you mention it, I've seen a few stabbings but that's usually a woman, a wife, killing her husband. Men use their hands on a weaker person."

"Exactly. A man wouldn't use a hat pin. A woman would, and a woman is most familiar with hat pins."

"You, know," Roy said, "I think I'll go pay a little visit to Miss Pear again. Have a little talk about hat pins."

Sibella spoke up. "Why? Do you think she stabbed Mme. Adair? Do you think they were both in love with Corporal Griffith?"

Adam shook his head. "Sibella, stop this wild hypothesizing. We'll find out in due time if there's a connection. Let me know if you find out anything, Roy, but I don't think you will."

"Now, Adam, about Carson City and you asking about – I'd rather you not. I mean don't go off half-cocked, causing trouble..." Adam raised his brows. "I'm sorry, Adam. I still think of you as that 16-year-old running with Carl Reagan and them Bonners, causin' mischief all over the countryside. It's hard for me to remember you're a grown man, already been in the army and now a husband and father. You'll always be that young, wet-behind-the ears Cartwright boy to me – Ben's oldest boy."

Adam chuckled. "I know, Roy, I know."

"But.." Roy scratched his head. "This investigatin', that's business for the law to handle, not an ordinary citizen. I can send Clem to ask about Miss Harriet Griffith."

"Roy, I want to do this on my own; we have a personal interest in this case."

Roy Coffee sighed. "Okay Adam…okay. But let me just - raise your right hand and I'll deputize you."

Sibella, watched as Roy Coffee swore in Adam. That was another thing she would have to work on – female law officers.

~ 0 ~

Sibella didn't care for the buckboard; she was jostled too much and often had to grab the sidebar to stay upright. Besides, they had a perfectly good, comfortable, four-seater buggy. And the buckboard, besides having a hard seat, made so much noise with its creaks and thumps that a conversation was almost impossible. But Adam had insisted they take the buckboard; he was going to buy feed, he said.

The capitol of Nevada, once it became a state, was Carson City and it was booming far more than Virginia City. Its sidewalks were full of people going about their business, and ditches were being dug to place gas lines for lighting; street lights were being planned and construction was everywhere. But Adam visited Carson City at least once a month for business purposes and was never surprised to see a new building or a refreshed façade. He parked the buckboard in the alley beside the sheriff's office.

~ 0 ~

"Can I help you?" A man rose from behind a desk, standing with his hand on his hips. He wore a sheriff's badge but instead of looking at Adam, he looked at Sibella. "Mornin', ma'am."

"Good morning," Sibella said, giving her most charming smile.

Then he looked at Adam, first frowning and then his expression showed recognition. "Wait a minute," he pointed a finger at Adam. "I've seen you before in town…Cartwright."

"Yes. Adam Cartwright. And you're…" Adam put out his hand as the sheriff came about the desk and they shook hands. Adam knew that "old man Hayward", as he had been referred to during his tenure, had been replaced a few years ago by a new man but up to now, Adam had never needed this sheriff's assistance.

"Sheriff Harve Meiklejohn. What can I do for you, Mr. Cartwright?"

"I need some information that might be pertinent to a death in Virginia City."

"Oh? I'd think Roy Coffee'd be here asking questions about something like that, not a rich rancher like you. Wait…is this about that woman who was stabbed in a hat shop? Read the Territorial Enterprise story about it."

"It might be related to that. And as for the law, I've been deputized to investigate."

Sheriff Meiklejohn, to Adam's annoyance, reached out and pushed aside the lapels, one at a time, of his suede trail coat. Adam refrained from knocking away the intrusive hand. "I don't see no badge."

Sibella stepped forward. "I saw Sheriff Coffee deputize him this morning – swore him in." The idea that anyone would question Adam infuriated her. "You shouldn't doubt his word."

"Sibella, I can manage." Adam turned back to a smirking sheriff.

"Well, if the lady says you're a deputy, then I won't question her word. Now, what is it you and the lady want to know? Or is she a deputy as well?"

Adam cleared his throat and glanced at Sibella, meaning for her to be quiet.

"No, she's not a deputy. Now, if you'd just answer this - do you remember a woman by the name of Harriet Griffith? She lived – at least she had her mail delivered here in Carson City – during the war."

"Sorry – can't help you. I was in Montana territory during the war. Got tired of freezing my ass…" Meiklejohn cleared his throat and apologized to Sibella for his language. "I can't tell you nothing about who lived here then. You might ask Zack Hayward. He was sheriff then. Lives right at the west edge of town. Go straight out - little blue house with yellow shutters, him and his housekeeper. Leastways that's all she claims to be." He smiled knowingly.

"I guess I'll go talk to Hayward then. Sheriff." Adam touched his hat brim and took Sibella by the arm, escorting her out the door.

"What a horrid man!" Sibella said as she and Adam walked down the street toward the east end. "Doubting your word! I can't believe that…"

"Sibella, I brought you with me to keep you out of trouble back home; don't cause me any here. Just be quiet when I talk with Mr. Hayward."

"But, Adam!"

"Sibella, believe me when I say I don't need you to defend me like I'm some drunk you have to make excuses for."

"Adam, I never meant anything like that. I just…" She pointed ahead. "That must be the house."

A small house stood a short distance out of town. It was blue with yellow shutters but the paint was flaking off and a sapling grew so close to the house, it practically hugged it. One front shutter was hanging off, the top hinge broken, and the walkway had almost disappeared under a mat of unruly weeds competing with one another for the sun.