I did quite a bit of research on Nevada during the Civil War and also about Fort Churchill. I tried to be as historically accurate as I could.

XIII

"Oh, Adam, this is place is just awful! I hate to think a retired sheriff lives in such a decrepit hovel." Sibella had taken Adam's arm, clinging to it, while he led her down the walk and up the three steps to the front door.

"Sheriffs don't make much despite being asked to risk their lives. Don't be a snob." Adam knocked heavily on the door.

"I'm not a snob, Mr. Egalitarian, but I've never been inside such a place. What if there are rats? What are you going to do if…"

Sibella couldn't finish as the door opened and a man of about 50 years, leaning on a cane, stood facing them. A .45 was tucked in his belt and his expression wasn't inviting.

"Yes? Can I help you with something?"

Adam took off his hat; it seemed the respectful thing to do. "My name's Adam Cartwright and this is my wife, Mrs. Cartwright. We'd like to ask you some questions about a young woman who lived in Carson City during the war. We believe she's dead – murdered, but we're not sure."

"Not sure? Must be one mighty bad doctor who examined her if he couldn't decide on that."

Adam smiled slightly. "It's her identity that's in question. We're hoping you might be able to help. Would you mind?"

Hayward looked at Sibella and then at Adam, noting his sidearm. "You one of the Ponderosa Cartwrights?"

"Yes."

"What's your Pa's name? And how many brothers you got?"

Adam knew he was being tested to confirm he was who he said. "My father is Ben Cartwright and my brothers are Hoss and Joe." Hayward opened his mouth to speak but Adam put up a hand, palm-out, to stop him. "Before you ask for more confirming evidence, our cook is Hop Sing, we own 100,000 acres and I designed the expansion of the ranch house, basically the kitchen and the upper floor. My father and Roy Coffee are good friends, old friends, and so Roy is a friend of mine as well; we tend to be clannish. The friend of one is the friend of all and as for enemies, well, it's the same."

"I suppose you are a Cartwright – an arrogant bastard, aren't you?" Adam grinned, finding he liked Hayward. "Well, come on in and I'll do what I can." Hayward stepped aside and Adam and Sibella passed. Much to her surprise, the inside of the house was spotless with light painted walls, dimity curtains on the windows and a large, plush rug on which the comfortable furniture sat arranged about a fireplace that only had a day or two of ashes in the grate. "Have a seat," He said to them and then called out, "Myra, we got company. How 'bout some coffee and some of them sugar cookies."

Sibella opened her mouth to decline the food and coffee, wondering about the sanitary conditions of the kitchen, but Adam gave her a look that she recognized: "Silence".

"Coffee and a little something to eat would be perfect for about now. We haven't eaten since breakfast." Adam smiled and Sibella followed suit although she certainly didn't feel the same way.

~ 0 ~

Sibella sipped the coffee and gave into her hunger and ate a few cookies while Former Sheriff Hayward and Adam talked. Myra, introduced as the housekeeper, was a middle-aged woman, not very pretty and extremely diffident, but seemingly kind. She didn't have much to say, nodding when introduced but not really meeting eyes, and left the china tea set on the coffee table which had been washed so many times the floral pattern had practically disappeared in some spots and the end of the spout had a small chip. Sibella, being left to pour, noted the cups weren't stained by coffee after years of use. Myra must be clean, Sibella concluded, to have been so careful about stains over the years. So, after Myra had scuttled back to the kitchen and Adam and Hayward talked, Sibella sipped and listened.

Hayward held the envelope in one hand and the tintype of Corporal Griffith in the other, looking back and forth. "Now if you had a picture of her, I might be able to tell you." Hayward looked up from the papers. "During the war, especially after Nevada joined the Union, well, things weren't pleasant hereabouts. There was martial law in all the cities and towns. If a person made it clear they were a Confederate sympathizer, they were run off their land or arrested and taken to Fort Churchill. There, they were put to useless hard labor doing ridiculous chores while wearing chains – like digging holes and filling them up again."

"Sisyphean," Adam said mainly to himself.

"What?" Hayward asked.

"Futile – a task that's futile like the punishment of Sisyphus in mythology…it doesn't matter."

"Well, it mattered to them. Things weren't pretty about here. The soldiers even went to mining camps and asked about anyone who supported the South. One miner would turn in another just for his claim. Things were bad – a house in town was set on fire, Abner Logan's, 'cause the man's son fought for the Confederacy. Abner left, ran because they threatened to hang him and then skin him."

"Yes…I heard about it all when I returned from the war."

"You fought, son?"

"Yes. For the North. When I came home, my father told me about the new flag, the capitol, the new banking system going into effect – all of it. He said, during the war, he went into town as little as possible, said there was a lot of hate-mongering and since my brother Joe's mother was from New Orleans - Joe was proud of it and would tell anyone who would listen, my father kept him on the property as much as he could. I found it hard to believe that there was such intolerance among the people I knew so well – or thought I knew."

"Here in Carson City, Captain Monroe from Fort Churchill and a U.S. Marshal by the name of Blackburn, confiscated weapons from all the citizens, then went to Silver City and Virginia City to take them as well. I'm lucky they left me mine."

"Did they arrest women? I mean if a woman was a Confederate sympathizer such as Miss Griffith more than likely was, having a brother fighting for the South, might they arrest her?"

"I don't know but it wouldn't surprise me any. The Army left me out of things; I never knew who they arrested when they did, only when a wife would come to my office weeping 'cause her husband'd been dragged out of the house - arrested by soldiers – and taken away. And there was nothing I could do to help her. Mind you, it didn't happen often – people learned to keep their mouth shut, something I advised them to do. Keep your politics to yourself, I'd tell them and for once, the citizens heeded what I said. If I saw a Confederate flag, I'd take it before a soldier saw it. I'm not displeased they're closing down Fort Churchill; only a skeleton battalion left. But there might still be records; don't know if the orders are to burn them or ship them to another place.

"Ma'am, would you mind pouring me another?" Hayward leaned and handed his cup to Sibella who smiled and took the cup and saucer, pouring more coffee. "Thank you, ma'am and excuse me for not standing. It's troublesome for me to get up without struggling. Was shot in the leg once and the bone never really healed right. The City Council granted me an extra $100.00 when I retired so I guess it was almost worth it."

Sibella smiled and poured the coffee. "Cream? Sugar?"

"Just black, ma'am. I'm a man of simple tastes." He took the cup from Sibella and held it close to sip.

Adam glanced at Sibella and pursed his lips. Then he spoke. "Mr. Hayward, did you know a Colonel Tucker Fitzhugh? He was stationed at Fort Churchill during the war – actually was there from the beginning. He…"

"Liked to drink, I remember that. You know they built that fort to kill Indians and he was a good Indian fighter. Seemed to be a brave man but he hated the Confederacy as much as he did Indians – talked about killing them all when he was drunk, just lining them up on the wall of Fort Churchill and going down the line, pushing them off one at a time. Said something about the Romans killing prisoners that way – pushing every 10th prisoner off the edge of a cliff as a way to keep them from uprising. Damn, he hated Johnny Rebs. He'd come into town every so often for supplies, corn whiskey and such and take them back – a whole wagon load of barrels of cheap whiskey for the men even though it was against regulations."

"I see. Fitzhugh's staying at the Ponderosa – he and his wife. They're traveling to San Francisco."

"No kidding. Didn't know Fitzhugh had a wife. One time he was sitting in the saloon, dandling some bar girl on his knee and kinda feeling her 'assets'. She wanted up and he wouldn't let her. Started a ruckus and I was called, not just because I was sheriff, but because I was the only one in town with a gun. I had to arrest him and he spent the night in my jail. Let him out in the morning and he just rode away like the whole thing never happened."

"Well, thank you, Sheriff Hayward." Adam stood up and Hayward grabbed his cane, pushing himself up using the chair arm. "Please, don't get up. We can see ourselves out."

"No, this is our home and I'll see out any guests." Hayward stood, shaky until he found his balance. "Mrs. Cartwright, you brightened up my house – you're as cheerful to look at as a vase of fresh flowers. It's nice to have some visitors on occasion."

"Why thank you," Sibella said, smiling. She decided she liked Sheriff Hayward.

Once outside, having said their goodbyes, Adam and Sibella walked arm in arm toward town and when they were out of earshot, Sibella said, "Did you notice he said 'our' house? That must mean that Myra is more than a housekeeper like Sheriff Meiklejohn implied."

"What does it matter, Sibella? Better than being lonely."

"Well, when we met and I talked about free love and relations outside of marriage, you told me I was being silly."

"You were. Those ideas are immature when you think about all that's involved in a physical relationship. When I was in college, the same ideas were bandied about - free love, no commitments between a man and a woman, multiple partners, exploring one's sexuality. Do you think those ideas are new?"

"Well…" Sibella was nonplussed; Adam always did that to her, talked circles around her until she was dizzy. "Adam, if something happened to me, would you take another wife?" Sibella cocked her head.

"God, no!" Adam said with emphasis.

Sibella smiled, angling for a compliment. "Is it because you love me so much?"

"Well, I do love you, but I'd never marry again because, in my opinion, if a man survives one wife, he should consider himself lucky and not put himself through it again."

"Oh, Adam!" Sibella said, lightly slapping his arm. And Adam chuckled. "Your father didn't think so." Sibella instantly regretted her remark. Adam's face turned hard, the gentle smile left his mouth; he had never said how he felt about his father's second and third wives beyond vague references to affection for Inger and a comment that Marie was beautiful. And Sibella never pushed him as it was something he obviously didn't want to discuss.

"I want to send a few wires," Adam said, looking for the telegraph office as they walked down the main street of Carson City. "If I remember, the office should be beside the…there it is."

"Adam could we have lunch before we return home. I had a few cookies but I really am hungry."

"We can eat a bit but I have something to pick up at the freight office first."

"What about the feed you're picking up?"

"Well," Adam said, turning to look at her. Sibella was pleased he was himself again with the soft look about his eyes when he spoke to her. "That wasn't quite the truth. I've had a crate waiting over a week to be picked up."

"What is it?"

"A surprise." And that was all Adam would say.