FOUR

"Adam, please. Take a few cigars for later. Please." Mr. Atherton held the cigar box open in front of me.

I declined, but he insisted so I finally took out two more and slipped them in my jacket's inside pocket, thanking him. It seemed to ease his sense of guilt – I was sure it was guilt that had made him share his best Jamaican rum and foist expensive cigars onto me.

I sipped the rum and marveled at its taste. "I've never tasted anything like this – it's…is it any special rum, like the cigars?"

We were in his office, sitting in two very comfortable leather chairs, a fireplace between us warming the coolness of evening. Imported rugs from Asia lay on the polished wood floor and a few bronzes decorated the shelves along with sprinkling of books. The walls were paneled with what I was sure, was black oak found in northern California – very expensive. The liquor cabinet was prominent with the sparkling cut-crystal decanters and glasses along with the bottles of whiskey, brandy and rum. I imagine Atherton spent much time alone there, avoiding his wife.

Atherton held the glass up, letting the light from the fireplace highlight the deep golden color. "Appleton rum – Appleton Estate Reserve-Jamaican. A nice diversion from sophisticated brandy or distilled whiskey, isn't it?" He grinned at me.

"Yes, it certainly is." I sipped it again. "Strong, that's for sure. But very nice."

"If only I could find limes to add, it would be perfect. I first tasted rum of this type when your father and I were sailing those waters – after our military service, of course. I tasted rum and fell in love with it, but your father fell in love with, well, never mind.

"Early in the war, I couldn't get any but some of the blockade runners who couldn't get through to the south, well, they would deliver to California and I found a few bottles. It's still difficult to get but it's getting easier now that…. Let me give you a bottle to take home to your father. I'm sure he'll enjoy it and maybe tell you about our time in the Carribean."

"My father doesn't discuss that time and I never even knew he was in Jamaica or even in that area. And you've intrigued me. What did my father fall in love with?" For some reason, it made me uneasy to think of my father having secrets. But then, I did as well as I'm sure everyone does – things we hope will never be revealed.

"Not what, but who. But I shouldn't have said anything. It's not my story to tell." Mr. Atherton looked down at his glass as he swirled the rum. "One day, maybe he'll tell you about that time, about the mixed-race shop girl – very sad. And then there was the plantation owner's daughter. There's quite a story behind that and you might very well have been raised on a sugar cane plantation instead of a cattle ranch in Nevada." He raised his glass slightly as if in a toast. "To your father's health," and drained it. Then he rose and poured himself another glass.

I watched him closely; there was something he wanted to tell me and it wasn't the story about my father and his youthful indiscretions; Francis Atherton wouldn't reveal details about such a matter. But I reminded myself to ask my father about the "shop girl" the next time he criticized my decisions regarding women.

"I've been writing to your father now for quite a while. I had hoped that once Sibella was safely home from school, she would marry a fine young man and become a wife and mother, you know, be happy, what all parents hope for. I would, of course, provide any financial assistance to anyone she chose – a dowry of sorts - but she runs them all ragged and eventually, I think from sheer exhaustion, abandon any hope of winning her. Sibella says they just want her money – my money – but I don't think so. But no man has lasts too long with Sibella; she beats them down, manages to intimidate them all."

I grinned at the thought of her. "She is quite…set in her beliefs. If she truly does believe in them. I think part of her espoused philosophy is just for shock-value."

"Strong and determined and down-right hard-headed, she is. She's going to be 21 and although it doesn't seem to trouble her, she's a spinster. Her mother says she believes it does bother Sibella, but that may just be her mother's feelings projected onto Sibella. I just don't know what to make of things. Do you believe her mother even thinks, hopes, that Sibella might marry Alan? My fear is that she will marry him. What a debacle that would be."

I sipped my rum, not commenting, and then took a pull on my cigar, leisurely releasing the smoke. The window behind me was partially open and the evening breeze swirled the smoke about as if it was the genie released from its bottle in the Arabian tale.

"And you remembered my father had three sons," I said with a smile.

He chuckled a little. "Yes. Who better for my daughter than a hard-headed Cartwright. Your father thinks it's time you married and, well, if you would marry Sibella…Adam, I'd make it worth it to you. I'd give you a draft for a wedding present that would buy you the state of Montana."

"The offer is beyond any dreams of avarice," I said, "but I have no desire to own Montana."

"But you have to admit that Sibella is lovely and could, under the right handling, become a fine wife. Oh, and I can ensure a job with the railroad where you'd only have to show up once a week and still draw a huge paycheck. All you'd have to do is marry Sibella and give us grandchildren."

"Mr. Atherton, Sibella is not just lovely, she's beautiful as well as intelligent, and when she chooses to be, charming. You don't need to buy her a husband; she has her own charms to win one. Besides, Sibella would have to give consent to be married and she's certainly not in love with me nor I with her."

"Love." He looked down and sighed. "Love is so unimportant when it comes to marriage."

"I think it's most important."

He looked directly at me. "Have you never been in love, Adam?"

I paused, thinking about the many times I thought I had been in love, was sure I had been. "Yes, I've been in love."

"But you've never married. Why not?"

I gave a self-conscious laugh. "Nothing seemed to work out; the circumstances weren't right."

"But you're in a long-term relationship with a woman now, correct?"

"So, I see my father is telling tales out of school. Yes, I have a mistress and no, love isn't involved."

He leaned forward in his chair, his face animated. "See, Adam, that's the way a marriage should be. No one becomes hurt if an affair takes place as long as it is discreet. A person knows what is expected of them in a relationship without love. One only needs to respect and care for the person they marry, to want to shield them from any harm."

"Sibella deserves better than that, don't you think? Doesn't she deserve a man who adores her?"

"Adoration doesn't last – but mutual respect, a friendship of sorts, does last."

"I can't agree with you, Mr. Atherton. My father was married three times and each time, it was for love. I witnessed two of his marriages and…"

"And both wives, sadly, died young, died long before love and passion became mere amity. But If one begins a marriage with amity, it can only become stronger. Harmony and goodwill, that's what…"

A knock on the door interrupted us and it was opened by Sibella who stood looking more beautiful than earlier. I had forgotten how lovely she was and seeing her was like being struck in the face. I felt myself become aroused at the thought of marrying her and bedding her. What would she be like? Would she be silent and endure my thrusting or would she cry out at our coupling, participate with unabashed desire for more?

"Alan is leaving, father," she said. Alan Pembroke stepped into the room as well.

"Well," Mr. Atherton said, rising, "goodnight, son. You're always welcome in our home and we'll see you tomorrow night, yes?"

"Yes, and…" Alan stepped closer to me and I stood up as well. "You will be there tomorrow night, won't you, Adam?" He was almost breathless, his cheeks flushed.

"Yes, I was persuaded to stay." I put down my cigar, balancing it on the ashtray and extended my hand. He took it and placed his other hand on it.

"Oh, I'm so glad. I would like to talk with you more about…well, actually anything." He smiled and a lock of blond hair fell into his eyes. He released my hand and brushed it aside. I noticed Sibella had a knowing smile as she watched us. Alan slowly backed out, smiling. "Well, goodnight, Adam…Mr. Atherton. Until tomorrow."

They left and Mr. Atherton retook his seat and I took mine.

He shook his head. "Can you see my daughter marrying him?"

"You said amity is most important in a marriage and Sibella does seem to like him, and he, her."

"I should know better than to argue with you, Adam. Sibella is just as deft at throwing my own words back in my face. Now between the two of you, I'd like to see who comes out the victor."

And I was picturing the same thing, Sibella and I tussling on a bed, seeing who would control our coupling, who would be on top, who would ride whom. And I could picture Sibella, standing wide-legged with a riding crop in one hand while wearing knee-high riding boots - and nothing else. Quite the spicy image - tinder for a beginning passion.

TBC